


^A&^.^ArViMR 



^a/v.V 






A A /* ^A^V/S 



r \ l ^ * /\ I A ' ^ A 















J LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 3 

# : f 

fl to » I'wg"^^^! 

J «^<# 'A/4A.3 I " 

# 15G 4 ! 

* UNITED STATES OP AllERICA. f 





k ■ 


^ X** 


v 




v^r^ * ' 










A > 




AAa'I 




' An 


•-.^ 


- 




! - a a'J 



ifiFW' 



'VW Va Aa'VuS A*. »aa-" "•*• - 












^V ;a/V? .AaAVN 









ftfc..ftS£ &A* .raft' 



*^^>M^#»S,« 



A - A U ^ A - ' ^ I 



W\,vw 






«swa«t2Sss 












» *AA* *0A * ^\ .*»<?'' 



w«OR, 



sateen 



^k^^mm 






>*™>\V a ^ r\. .AaAaa ^aA^a^\>A«. a, 



Ai&ftA^AA • a*" 



: M JW 






/tofitf 












» ;fi flflAftfW 



;>>'> Aa IaY" ''• -^ r - ;^^-" a aa a ^ 
f$^&^&§^?**h >aa Va a*T 



VA/Va 



CHECKERED LIFE: 



%n %utohwQxu$!£. 



. 

BY REV. I. L. VER MEHR. 

w*.„ ™ - 



" TIMES LOSE NO TIME j NOR DO THEY ROLL IDLY BY I THROUGH OUR 
SENSES, THEY WORK STRANGE OPERATIONS ON THE MIND." 

St. Augustine. 



— — *> 



BOSTON: 

WALKER, WISE, AND COMPANY; 

TICKNOE AND FIELDS. 
1864. 






Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1863, by 

WALKER, WISE, AND CO., 

In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. 



**ti 



~i& ii 



BOSTON: 
PRINTED BY JOHN WILSON AND SON, 

5, Water Street. 



JBetucattott* 



TO ELEONORE AND ADELAIDE. 



When I had performed my task, and reclined back in my 
chair, I could not help wishing to inscribe my simple nar- 
rative to some honored name ; and many were those who 
presented themselves to my searching memory, under whose 
protecting shelter my unpretending volume might appear 
before that many-headed, many-hearted despot, the "Public." 
I mused long ; and, in pensive mood, I rose to stroll among 
my humble flower-beds. I gathered flower after flower to 
form a fragrant bouquet, a remembrance of my finished task, 
and a token of affection to one whom I love. 

Culling and gathering, I was struck by the beauty and 
fragrance of the rose, which, white or red, is fullest and 
freshest and purest. In my fanciful humor, the white rose 
seemed to take a form ; and Eleonore, with her modest 
virtue, arose before me, the sweet pupil of my youth, who 
first taught me to love and cherish the excellences of human 
nature. And her sister, with the richly variegated colors, 
from lightest pink to darkest crimson, portrayed to me the 
treasures of the queenly Adelaide, my faithful companion in 
my pilgrimage over land and ocean. 



IV DEDICATION. 

Thus it seemed to me ; and I said, " To them I will 
inscribe the record of a life made sweet by their affection ; 
made sweet, indeed, notwithstanding the bitterness of grief 
and disappointment ; made more than sweet, O partner of 
my toil ! " 

Thus I said ; and I thought of the four angels, who, in 
one week of agony, were called from us to the presence of 
Him who united us in bonds eternal ; and their innocent 
spirits seemed to hover around your names, and to add 
security to my confidence. None, I thought, will have any 
but words of peace and consolation for him, in whom, indeed, 
times have lost no time. 



CONTENTS. 



Page 

Dedication iii 

CHAPTER I. 
Early Scenes 9 

n. 

Enough for a Fortnight 14 

III. 
St. Anna 20 

IV. 
Haret Castle 27 

V. 
Nothing remains but Eternity 38 

VI. 
Preparing for the University 48 



VI CONTENTS. 

VII. Page 

The Museum 58 

VIII. 
The University 65 

IX. 
The Army 80 

X. 

Academic Honors 91 

XL 
The Battle of Louvain 100 

XII. 
Two Sisters 114 

XIII. 
Conflict and Separation 123 

XIV. 
The World wide open . 132 

XV. 
Lady Marie 142 

XVI. 
What is to be, is 153 

XVII. 
In the Market 162 



CONTENTS. Vll 

XVIH. P A6E 

A Royal Audience 170 

XIX. 
A Pastor in the Capital 183 

XX. 

West-End Institute 193 

XXI. 
A Cloud 204 

XXII. 
Sunshine 217 

xxm. 

Germany and Switzerland 224 

XXIV. 
Is it Rebecca ? . . . 234 

XXV. 
The Demand 244 

XXVI. 
The Flight to Tarshish 254 

XXVII. 
Decision 266 

XXVHI. 
Adelaide 276 



V1U CONTENTS. 

XXIX. Page 

Rebecca 287 

XXX. 

The First Home 299 

XXXI. 
The Dominican 312 

XXXII. 
A Temptation 324 

xxxin. 

The "Josephine" . . 333 



Conclusion 339 



CHECKERED LIFE. 



CHAPTER I. 

EARLY SCENES. 

TT was in 1813. The rain fell in torrents. I 
stood at the window, looking in wonder at the 
train of horsemen, wagons, and soldiers of every 
description, passing as in one uninterrupted 
stream. I see them yet, those old French cui- 
rassiers, with their long horse-tails, their large 
cloaks, their weather-beaten features. I hear 
them yet, those half-suppressed imprecations ; the 
" Halt ! " succeeded by the far-off " Advance ! " 
There was no end. Day after day they passed. 
" They are the remainders of the Great Army," 
was the answer to my questioning ; and I remem- 
ber having thought it must have been a great 
army indeed, of which the remainders were so 
endlessly long. 



10 EARLY SCENES. 

The next startling incident was of a more 
gloomy character. I heard the reports of cannon 
and muskets. The house seemed to shake. The 
doors were burst open ; wounded men were car- 
ried in, — French soldiers saved from slaughter. 
I remember a Spaniard, young and handsome, 
mortally wounded. I see yet his kindly smile, 
when laid on a comfortable mattress ; and he 
smiled once more, and breathed his last. 

A few months later, I remember coming from 
school. Our house swarmed with Prussian hus- 
sars, — some thirty of them at the dining-table ; 
the wine-cellars burst open, and the peaceful 
family mansion a scene of dissoluteness and up- 
roar. I was a boy of five. The novelty pleased 
me. I liked those fine men, with clashing sabres 
and clinking spurs, then loud and boisterous talk, 
their roaring laugh and careless manners. But, 
in the morning, I saw my sweet sister, a maiden 
of twelve, pale and haggard, trembling and shi- 
vering ; and, approaching the reckless band, on 
her knees she implored . mercy for her mother, 
who lay at death's door, overcome with fear and 
anxiety. And, when I heard the taunting roar 
of laughter which burst upon her, there was in 
the boy of five a sudden revulsion. I hated the 



EARLY SCENES. 11 

Prussian hussars ; and even now, after the lapse 
of half a century, Prussia and any thing Prussian 
has little favor with me. 

Oh the misery of those days ! During two 
months, one band of those uniformed tyrants suc- 
ceeded another. During two months, they kept 
my father a prisoner in his own house, whilst 
they ransacked it, and turned it into a place of 
riot : for, in his wrath, he laid a heavy hand on 
the commander; and, asserting the rights of a 
freeman in his own domain, he incurred the ven- 
geance of military despotism. At last they went, 
and for a year my memories are of a quiet and 
peaceful character. 

They bring me back to my sixth anniversary, a 
day of joy and pleasure; gifts bestowed with 
bountiful liberality ; parents' blessing, and a bro- 
ther's and sister's affection; and the house 
thronged with guests, and the companions of my 
childhood surrounding the youngest heir with 
tokens of sympathy. 

But in midsummer, — it was in 1815, — like 
far-distant thunder, I heard it roaring, sometimes 
in quick succession, sometimes with long inter- 
vals ; and, when I asked, I was told, " It is the 
Emperor's battle." They did not know it was his 



12 EARLY SCENES. 

last ! It is now very nearly half a century ; but 
the booming of Waterloo's cannon roars yet with 
funeral solemnity in my memory. 

And with its dying echoes ends the bright 
vision of wealth and power as conceived in my 
childhood. Though not directly opposed to, yet 
not in favor of, the glorious meteor, which, from 
the siege of Toulon up to the brilliant sun of 
Austerlitz, had constantly ascended on the politi- 
cal horizon, my family had borne all the weight 
of despotism, and next all the crushing insolence 
of the Restoration. Its nearly princely wealth, 
exhausted by taxations and contributions, at last 
received its death-blow by the vandalism of those 
who came to restore. Of all the possessions, 
nothing remained but the ancestral home, still 
occupied by our family ; and I remember well, 
how, day after day, its appearance changed, 
strange faces were seen haunting its halls and 
chambers, until I perceived that my liberty of 
rambling about was restrained. I felt a pang in 
my young heart. I felt mortified. I was glad 
when a coach stopped at the gate ; and my 
brother and sister and myself took our seats. 
The carriage-door was closed, and I never saw my 
ancestral home again. 



EARLY SCENES. 13 

Through the tedious hours of a sultry summer 
day the coach rolled on. It finally stopped at a 
small but pleasant dwelling on the banks of the 
picturesque Meuse, where we found our mother. 
There she often used to retire from the rumor 
and tumult of war, which for the last twenty 
years had resounded over our land. To remarka- 
ble beauty she joined the dignity of a queen. 
She received us as mothers in those times used 
to receive their children. There was love, but 
reserve ; there was anxious care, but greater 
pride. And she pressed us one after another 
to her bosom, and made us sit down at the 
supper-table, and took herself a seat with all 
the dignity of former times. Ah ! it was a sober 
repast. My brother, a noble boy of fifteen years, 
my sister, a growing maiden of thirteen, both 
felt that life had assumed a new and more severe 
aspect ; and I, when nature's wants were satisfied, 
began to remember with longing heart one who 
that morning had given me a parting kiss. Tears 
filled my eyes, and tears filled the eyes of brother 
and sister ; when at last I cried with sorrow and 
anguish, " Where is papa f " 



14 ENOUGH FOR A FORTNIGHT. 



CHAPTER n. 



ENOUGH FOR A FORTNIGHT. 



I am of Austrian and Spanish lineage; for my 
ancestor in the fifth degree was the lineal de- 
scendant of Don Juan of Austria and Dona 
Maria de Mendoza, and married the grand- 
daughter of Don Louis de Requesens, the Spanish 
Governor of the Netherlands. During two cen- 
turies, my family had occupied posts of trust 
under the then powerful government of the Bata- 
vian Republic. Mostly men of war, they had 
fought her battles against Louis XIV., and his 
successor, Louis XV. Through good manage- 
ment and rich inheritances, their wealth had 
steadily increased. Of an independent spirit, 
they never were favorable to the house of 
Orange; nor were they inclined to humor the 
despotism of Napoleon. When the Netherlands 
were incorporated with the French Empire, my 
father, the only inheritor of the name and for- 
tune, kept aloof from imperial influence. 



ENOUGH FOR A FORTNIGHT. 15 

After the battle of Leipsic, the oppressed pro- 
vinces began to breathe. Men of influence 
formed various plans for the future. Some (and 
they were the majority) saw nothing better than 
to recall Orange to the head of affairs ; others, 
and my father among them, had a wider range. 
They thought of uniting the Netherlands, from 
France to the Elbe, into one empire. I have yet 
in my possession the plans drawn up for that 
purpose. It was a magnificent project. It 
would have created a powerful State, a check on 
France, on England, and on Prussia. It does 
not matter what part my father took in this plan. 
He was deeply involved. He was a man in the 
meridian of life, thoroughly versed in the science 
of government ; of great enterprise ; and, above 
all, of unconquerable endurance and perseve- 
rance. Orange was recalled ; Belgium and 
Holland united into one petty kingdom. The 
friends of my father mostly contrived to make 
their timely submission ; but he remained stern 
and unbending. His patriotic heart would not 
submit to what afterwards appeared little better 
than egotistical Louis Philippe. He became 
dangerous in a time when all was unsettled. He 
was crushed. He sent his family where they 



16 ENOUGH FOR A FORTNIGHT. 

were comparatively safe. But the kiss which 
that morning he pressed on my brow was the last 
I knew of him during that dreary summer ; and 
to my sobbing cry, " Where is papa? " I received 
no answer but the gloomy silence of my poverty- 
stricken family. 

At last, the autumnal leaves began to fall, 
and winter set in with unusual severity. It 
had covered the earth with its frosty mantle ; 
and, in the dusk of approaching evening, we 
sat in silence, remembering more cheerful days ; 
when the door opened, and our father stood be- 
fore us. 

He looked wearied and careworn. He came 
from the frontiers, where he had been shifting 
from place to place. He was exhausted with 
fatigue : he was hungry. He was on his way to 
a place of safety, where he would be nearer his 
friends. He had to go that evening more than 
twelve miles. He would not stay with us. It 
might create suspicion, and disturb our re- 
pose. 

Oh, how well I remember that sad, very sad 
evening! I see yet my father, erect though 
crushed, holding the hand of my mother. My 
brother and sister stood near him, half encircling 



ENOUGH FOR A FORTNIGHT. 17 

him with their arms. Behind the group stood a 
dark, straight, military man, Col. P. of the Swiss 
guards, a veteran of eighty years, a trusty friend 
of my father. He brought him " from his 
penury" a few dollars. It needs no effort of 
memory to recall the scene. Silent they stood in 
mutual grief, until my father said, — 

" Farewell, Catona ! farewell ! I have enough 
for a fortnight. Trust in God." 

He left in the dark and snowy night. He left 
alone, to wander over a desolate heath ; nor 
would he allow any one to accompany him. My 
parents never met again in this world. 

"Enough for a fortnight!" and what after 
that? The words resounded strangely in my 
ears. There was a gloomy determination in 
those words, which startled me, child as I was. 
From that moment, I thought of nothing but of 
my father. His sudden appearance, his altered 
countenance, his silent departure, haunted me 
the whole night. " ' Enough for a fortnight,' " 
said I to my mother on the following morning : 
" what did papa mean ? " 

And my mother gave me one of those glances 
which used to strike me dumb. There was no 
idea of repeating the question. 



18 ENOUGH FOR A FORTNIGHT. 

Why this glance ? Was it reproof? No ; but 
it was a determined will that the subject should 
no more be touched. My mother disapproved of 
my father's political course. She took a matter- 
of-fact view of the thing. Since the case could 
not be altered, it was better to give in. Proud as 
she was, she did not see the use of adhering to 
political creeds, when they ruin a family. Per- 
haps she was not wrong. She thought, that, with 
a little policy, the favor of the " powers that be " 
might be gained. My father could not bend. 
He thought of nothing but the dream and ex- 
pectation of his whole life ; my mother, of her 
family. 

With the instinct of childhood, I abstained 
from further inquiry. But one evening a team- 
ster made his appearance, and mysteriously asked 
if there was any errand to St. Anna. 

I held already my mother's knees. I knew St. 
Anna. 

" Oh ! let me go," said I, " and bring your 
errand. Let me go, let me go ! — let me go to 
papa ! " 

How it was, I cannot now conceive ; but my 
mother consented. I sprang into the wagon : the 
teamster took his seat, cracked the whip ; and I 



ENOUGH FOR A FORTNIGHT. 19 

actually was on my way to see him whom since 
that dismal evening I had not lost an hour out of 
sight, and to whom, from this time, I clung with 
feelings of even more than filial affection. 



20 ST. ANNA. 



CHAPTER in. 



ST. ANNA. 



It was a hamlet on the frontier; its principal 
feature a respectable-looking inn, with a corpu- 
lent, good-natured landlord. There were many 
rooms and a large stable. Rooms and stable 
were always well filled. It was the head-quarters 
of the Douane. A dozen "horse-douaniers" were 
always at their post. Theirs was a hard and 
perilous service. All the inhabitants were smug- 
glers. The landlord himself was a smuggler. 
Between him and his warlike guests, it was a 
constant display of ruses de guerre. If there 
was a large convoy of contraband to pass, my 
landlord was ever ready with the bottle. But 
our douaniers were always on the alert. In the 
depth of night, some were on their lonely posts ; 
and, in the midst of drinking and boisterous 
laughter, you might see them disappear one after 
another, take to horse, and gallop to the menaced 



ST. ANNA. 21 

point. The smugglers were mostly armed. If 
they saw a chance, they would fight their way 
through ; if not, they would flee, and leave their 
baggage, which then became the prize of the 
hardy douanier. But revenge soon followed such 
a defeat ; and the life of the douanier who had 
successfully resisted this sort of brigandage was 
little worth. " When we are on our errand," said 
once a smuggler to my father, " we are shrouded ; 
and woe to the douanier who steps between us 
and our right!" 

There my father had found a refuge. A little 
room under the roof, and enough for a fortnight^ 
was all that remained of wealth and position. In 
that little room I found him, when finally released 
from the confinement in the wagon : then I rushed 
into his arms, and, covering him with kisses, cried, 
" Papa, I have come! " 

Oh the happy, happy days of childhood ! 
Misery, poverty, — all is swallowed up in the joy 
of one moment ! Oh the happy night I spent on 
a hard couch, but with the certainty that at least 
one day I should be with him, see him, hear him, 
talk with him ! 

And so I did. Who has not in his life had 
some days of intense happiness, leaving a mark 



22 ST. ANNA. 

which the hand of Time cannot efface, because it 
was the soul, the inmost soul, which received 
the impression ] Such a day was the first day at 
St. Anna, when my father took me about, and 
showed me the premises, the stables, the horses, 
the arms ; and himself enjoyed the loving sym- 
pathy of the little son, who seemed to be the only 
one to take a heartfelt interest in his forlorn 
condition. 

And when, that night, I lay down with the 
prospect of leaving the following morning, it was 
with a heavy heart : it was with the wish, with 
the hope, with the intention, nearly with the de- 
termination, of returning. 

It was noon when I reached my mother's dwell- 
ing. I entered her room with tears. Displeased 
was my mother's eye, almost stern her words : 
" If thus you return, it were better not to go any 
more." I say, almost stern ; for there was a mix- 
ture of grief and sorrow, which even then struck 
me with awe and reverence : for she loved me, 
and tenderly nursed me when very sick ; and she 
taught me to pray. Strange, how memories re- 
cur ! I remember when first she taught me the 
Lord's Prayer ; I remember how she made me 
kneel, and follow her words ; I remember how 



ST. AJNTNA. 23 

she would kiss me good-night ; I remember it : 
but my heart yearned after my father. 

A few days afterwards, I was with him. How 
this happened, I don't remember. I cannot re- 
collect it ; but I know I was there again, in the 
little upper room. I sat writing copies ; and the 
copies I remember : "Brutus and Cassius were 
the last of the Romans." Thus it was written at 
the head of the page ; thus I copied. And I 
remember the story as it fell from my father's 
lips. When I think of this, and recollect how it 
moulded my soul, how it formed my disposition, I 
cannot help saying to parents who may read these 
lines, " You have a godlike power over the mind 
of your children. They are, in your hands, like 
wax : whatever they become is your doing. Oh, 
what responsibility was laid on you when those 
children began to say ' father and mother ' ! " 

I remember that, day after day, I had to return ; 
day after day, there was something in the way; day 
after day, the tendrils of the vine clung with more 
strength around the tree. And I remember how, 
one afternoon, my father said, "Would you rather 
stay with me ? " And I answered, " Papa, I want 
to go anywhere with you." — "But," said my 
father, " I am very poor, and have no place to go 



24 ST. ANNA. 

to. I must leave here : I have been told to leave." 
And I remember saying, " Papa, let me go with 

you." 

It was so. Suspicious as all newly established 
governments are, a man of my father's mark could 
not be left alone. His party was powerful in 
rank and hereditary traditions : it had, in appear- 
ance at least, submitted to the " powers that be ; " 
but he whose aim was the public weal would 
not submit. His retreat was soon discovered; 
and the landlord, though under many obligations 
to my family, could not resist the outward press- 
ure. One morning, my father put a little bundle 
on my shoulders, took himself a larger one, and 
we set out. 

It was a frosty, clear morning. I never felt 
happier, before nor after, than when I walked at 
my father's side, carrying my little bundle. We 
walked many a mile. Towards the middle of the 
day, we stopped at a house on the roadside. I 
needed rest. A middle-aged lady waited for us. 
I knew her : she was a tried friend of my mother. 
I loved her. I have never seen her since ; but 
forty years thereafter, when she was eighty, I 
corresponded with her ; and over land and ocean 
she sent me words of love and affection. 



ST. ANNA. 25 

She addressed my father : " Sir," said she, " I 
know where you are going. I respect your 
opinions ; but can you involve this poor innocent 
child in your misery ? There is a mother to take 
care of him ; there is a sister to love him. I beg 
you, let him go with me ; let me return him to 
the care of his mother." 

My father smiled. " You are right, madam," 
said he ; " but the little fellow loves me. Speak 
with him, and act accordingly." He left the 
room. 

And now the good lady began a regular attack. 
I believe she left no argument untried : my mo- 
ther, my sister, and the playmates and the pleasant 
village and the beautiful Meuse and my comforts 
and my clothes, and what not, — all were repre- 
sented in glowing terms. Then came the contrast : 
my father's utter destitution ; the place to which 
we were going, — a castle with heavy walls and 
wide ditches ; no playmates, no clothes, &c. I 
remember very well her long and earnest plead- 
ing ; but " Brutus and Cassius " gained the mas- 
tery. She would have done wiser not to mention 
my father's destitution. For clothes I did not 
care ; and all her arguments lost their edge against 
my repeated " I go with papa." 



26 ST. ANNA. 

He re-entered the room. " Well," said he. 
" He wants to go with you," answered the lady. 
" It is well. Leno, take your bundle," said my 
father. I obeyed, and we continued our jour- 
ney. 

I began to be very tired: twelve miles was 
much for a first trip. We arrived at a crossway. 
My father sat down. " Here let us rest," said he : 
" they will soon come." 

We heard the rattling of a wagon. It stopped. 
An elderly gentleman alighted, and approached 
my father with a mixture of respect and famili- 
arity. A silent pressure of the hand was all. My 
father lifted me into the wagon, took himself a 
seat ; and, before the sun had reached the horizon, 
we saw its departing beams strike the turrets of 
Haret Castle. We soon entered its dark and 
stately avenue. The massive drawbridge fell ; the 
carriage -wheels resounded over the courtyard. 
We stopped at the emblazoned gate ; and Mrs. 
de S., extending her hand, said to my father, 
" Welcome ! " 



HARET CASTLE. 27 



CHAPTER IV. 



HARET CASTLE. 



The struggle between the Netherlands and Spain 
was protracted during the first half of the seven- 
teenth century. The Belgian provinces did not 
succeed in shaking off the yoke of foreign do- 
minion. It was in those days of cruel warfare 
and plunder that Haret Castle and several others 
were erected, — strong enough to protect against a 
coup de main, but not capable of sustaining a regu- 
lar siege. Its walls were about ten feet thick, its 
turrets just high enough to take a survey of the 
surrounding country; but it had nothing of 
the Gothic style, nothing of the dungeon-like 
appearance of the mediaeval castles. A stately 
avenue of nearly two miles' length led to the vil- 
lage of V., on the banks of the river Meuse. 
The environs were partly covered with a dense 
forest of pine-trees, partly with arable land; 
whilst to the south extended a dreary heath of 
more than fifteen miles. 



28 HARET CASTLE. 

We were soon established. My father occu- 
pied a large apartment, in size, at least, favorably 
contrasting with the small upper room at St. 
Anna. Its furniture was simple, recalling the 
memories of times past. It had been the ban- 
queting-hall, where many a festival must have 
taken place. The huge chimney, the old portraits, 
the high-backed chairs, the dark windows with 
their deep embrasures, are the principal features 
which I remember. These last were so deep 
indeed, that I used one of them as a very com- 
fortable nook, where, at a little desk, I began my 
regular studies. 

For my father was a man, who, in more than 
common measure, joined practical knowledge to 
theoretical learning. Deeply imbued with clas- 
sical studies, there was scarcely a European 
language which he had not thoroughly mastered. 
In law and philosophy, he had exhausted all the 
resources of the learning of ages. Educated by 
an eminent English scholar, he had finished his 
studies at the University of L. Then he began 
a brilliant career, partly in defending criminal 
cases, partly in acting as secretary to my grand- 
father, who, up to his sixty-third year, held a 
charge of great responsibility. The French Re- 



HARET CASTLE. 29 

volution broke out, when he died, and thus was 
spared the grief of foreign invasion, Jacobinic 
dominion, and Napoleonic absolutism. My father 
was then about twenty-four years old. Independ- 
ent by character and circumstances, he watched 
with interest the progress of the " new ideas," 
and their final development into the most oppres- 
sive military despotism. With others, he saw in 
Bonaparte the only strong arm capable of saving 
France and part of Europe from chaotic destruc- 
tion. But when the strong arm of Marengo's 
hero began to extend, with unrelenting grasp, 
over Western Europe, when conscription and 
taxation and proscription and confiscation fol- 
lowed in the train of French prefects and military 
commanders, then, with others, he withdrew his 
unbounded admiration. His heart sunk within 
him when he met him at a private audience. I 
remember how, in stately court-dress, and flushed 
with expectation, he went ; and I remember the 
look of sullen despair, wherewith, on his return, 
he answered a friend's inquiring, " What do you 
think of him ? " — " He has a hard skin ! " Nor 
could any thing prevail upon him to show his 
allegiance by accepting any favor or public office. 
He devoted himself to the education of his chil- 



30 HARET CASTLE. 

dren, and found relief in the faithful discharge of 
a private duty, since he could not assume any 
other. 

Such was my father. Separated from his wife, 
from his eldest son, and from his daughter, he 
had, by providential direction, none left but me 
upon whom to concentrate all his affection and 
care ; and he laid out a plan of study, to which 
he faithfully adhered during many years. Almost 
without any books, he made me study Latin, 
English, German, mathematics, and, strange 
enough, moral philosophy. Positive religion, or 
rather revealed religion, had no place in his sys- 
tem. The Bible he considered as a venerable 
record of antiquity. He caused me to read it 
daily ; and it was, so to say, my favorite reading. 
The historical books of the Old Testament and 
the Gospels of the New, — what can be more in- 
teresting even for a child ? What is called natural 
religion, he taught me regularly, as before he had 
taught my brother. Every Sunday morning had 
its two hours set apart for instruction in the intri- 
cacies of man's destination, mental and moral 
powers, relations and duties. 

And so I studied during the hours of the day. 
As I said before, without grammars, dictionaries, 



HARET CASTLE. 31 

or text-books, he enabled me, when ten years old, 
to read and write understanding^ French, Ger- 
man, and English ; he carried me through plane 
geometry and the elements of mensuration ; whilst 
in history I was almost as well at home as I ever 
have been since. 

And, when the study-hours were past, he 
rambled with me through the woods and over the 
fields ; and, whilst I gathered flowers or chased 
the butterfly, he would sit down and read Tacitus 
or Seneca, his favorite classics, which followed 
him everywhere. I possess them yet, those vene- 
rable relics ; and, whenever I open them, my 
father's image seems to take a form. O Memory ! 
what art thou, and where art thou ? Why does 
thy strength increase when other faculties de- 
cline? Art thou a faculty of the soul, or the 
soul itself? And, when the bodily faculties cease, 
shall the whole be memory ? Shall the whole of 
our life, with all its feelings, sensations, and per- 
ceptions, be as one vivid stream of joyful recollec- 
tion or woful remembrance % 

Sometimes I had a holiday. Armed with bow 
and arrow, I would rove about, shooting my harm- 
less weapons upon sparrows and crows, or foxes 
and hares. For miles around, there was no nook 



32 HARET CASTLE. 

or corner where I did not penetrate; and, though I 
returned with an empty bag, it benefited my health, 
and made my constitution wiry and enduring. 

But many clouds obscured those days of childish 
life. Though clinging with all my heart and soul 
to my father, yet did my thoughts often wander 
to my mother, brother, and sister. I wrote them 
sometimes ; but the heart yearned after more. I 
knew their residence was twenty miles distant, on 
the same Meuse where I often went to angle ; 
and once my desire to see them became so strong, 
that I made up my mind to go, and, following the 
windings of the river, to walk until I should come 
to their village. I formed this plan during the 
morning studies, a secret for my father, — the first, 
and truly the last, in my life. It was four o'clock 
in the afternoon when I left. As I approached 
the river, my heart became heavy. I was not 
accustomed to keep any thing from my father. I 
sat down. A procession of pilgrims to the cele- 
brated shrine of K. was halting for the night, — 
hundreds of men, women, and children singing 
psalms and hymns. They knelt in prayer. It 
was a truly solemn pause. My feelings, excited 
by self-reproach and the consciousness of doing 
a foolish thing, overcame me entirely. I burst 



HARET CASTLE. 33 

out in tears, and returned home ; hastening my 
step the more I approached, until, having passed 
the draw-bridge, I rushed to my father's room, 
threw myself into his arms, weeping, and confess- 
ing my fault, my lack of confidence. I shall 
never forget the agony of self-reproach where- 
with I clung to his faithful bosom. 

My brother was a youth of sixteen, handsome, 
daring, and of noble disposition. A lieutenancy 
in the army was offered him; but my father 
was inflexible in his refusal. Then some well- 
meaning friends of my mother offered him an 
advantageous position in one of the West- 
Indian colonies. The proud spirit of my brother 
could not bear his actual, uncertain situation. 
Strengthened by my mother's advice, he accepted. 
He went on board, and from there he wrote his 
farewell letter to my father. And what a letter ! 
how full of tenderness ! how full of repentance 
for having taken a step without his father's bless- 
ing ! " I must unburden my heart," said he. 
" O God ! how heavy it lies on my conscience to 
have left you thus ! But circumstances forced me. 
O my father ! write me soon, that I may know 
if you have forgiven me." 

And, with this letter unfolded in his hand, I 



34 HARET CASTLE. 

saw, one afternoon, my father returning from the 
village. It was the first tidings of a step which 
took from him his son, and sent him to a dan- 
gerous climate, in a position, which, though 
advantageous, he rightly considered as not de- 
sirable. All his feelings were wounded; his 
parental authority slighted; his son gone; and 
that son repenting when it was too late, — yet 
gone, perhaps, for ever. I remember how, bend- 
ing down in grief, he took me in his arms, and 
said, " My only hope and consolation ! " 

The new government had become settled ; yet 
the principal supporter of my father's views, a 
statesman who was at the head of affairs during 
the last years of the Republic, continued his cor- 
respondence. Many and many a letter had I 
fetched from the post-office; and I knew their 
importance by the manner in which my father 
read them, and studied their reply in a writing to 
me not intelligible; I knew it by expressions 
which now and then escaped him. All at once, 
the answers failed to come. My father became 
restless. 

On a beautiful summer evening, we returned 
together from the village, and overtook a platoon 
of soldiers, who went to their assigned quarters 



HARET CASTLE. 35 

in the neighborhood. When passing them, we 
heard the sergeant express, in forcible words, his 
regret at having left his meerschaum at the mill. 
" I am sorry," said he, " but too tired. Let it go ! 
but I am very sorry ! " 

" There," said my father : "we can show a 
kindness. We are not so tired. Let us go to the 
mill, and restore this m^n his pipe." 

It was two miles' walk ; but I was happy with 
the prospect of the man's joy at recovering so 
unexpectedly his property. We went; and 
towards dusk we arrived at the quarters. A strong 
exclamation of joy greeted me when I handed 
the pipe. The sergeant wished to reward me ; 
and, as this was declined, he accompanied us with 
continued expressions of gratitude. 

" Comrade," said my father, " what may be 
your business in this part of the world? We 
don't see you often here." 

" Indeed, sir," answered he, " our business is 
none of the most pleasing ; and I wish they had 
left it to the gendarmes." And then, lowering his 
voice, he added, " We have to make an arrest in 
the castle." 

" Indeed ! " said my father. " But what if they 
draw the bridge up ? " 



36 HARET CASTLE. 

" We shall surround the castle." 

" But there are only a few of you." 

" There is a company of one hundred men, 
under Capt. R., behind the village." 

" Well, comrade," said my father after a pause, 
" I think you will succeed." 

" Sir," replied the sergeant, " our order is to 
make the arrest in the castle. You have been 
very kind, sir : I wish I could render you some 
service." 

" My good friend," rejoined my father, " I have 
a mind to save yourself and me some trouble. I 
am your prisoner." 

Then I remember the man's rough but kindly 
face took a peculiar expression. 

" And what is to become of this brave little 
fellow, sir? Will you have him go between the 
bayonets to Fort A. ? Will you leave him here ? " 

" O papa ! " cried I, "do not leave me ! " 

" Sir," continued the sergeant, " I have no right 
to arrest you. It is my commander who has the 
warrant, and will present himself to-morrow morn- 
ing at Haret Castle. From here to the frontier 
river is only two miles, and you have a night to 
take your measures. May we be spared the 
shame of escorting so brave a gentleman with 



HARET CASTLE. 37 

our bayonets otherwise than as a guard of 
honor ! " 

Thus saying, he left us. My father followed 
him with thoughtful eye, took my hand, and we 
walked silently through the dark avenue. It was 
night when we arrived. My father had immedi- 
ately a long conversation with his host, Mr. de S. 
I went to bed, and fell asleep, dreaming of sol- 
diers. 

Early in the morning, my father stood before 
me, ready to depart. I had again my little bun- 
dle to carry. I left with regret a place where I 
had lived some of my happiest days. All was 
yet silent when we passed the court-yard and 
crossed the draw-bridge. Leaving the avenue, 
we passed through the pine forest ; and, avoiding 
the village, we arrived at the ferry just when the 
rising sun began to strike the turrets of Haret 
Castle. I gave it a last farewell, and entered the 
boat, which carried us soon to the other shore. 
For the first time that I can remember, I had a 
painful feeling of being homeless and houseless ; 
which however, if possible, seemed to increase 
the tenacity wherewith I clung to my father. 



38 NOTHING REMAINS BUT ETERNITY ! 



CHAPTER V. 

NOTHING REMAINS BUT ETERNITY ! 

The country through which we took our journey 
was barren and lonely, — a heath extending for 
more than thirty miles, with slight undulations, 
and here and there a bush. Far on the horizon, 
I could discern the Forest of Cleves, — a remnant 
of the forest which once covered the whole of 
Germany; but our path lay on the heath, fol- 
lowing the windings of the Meuse. 

It was historical ground. It was here, that in 
1574, when a dismal gloom covered the destinies 
of the United Provinces, the brave Count Louis 
of Nassau, the brother of the great William of 
Orange, fell in the bloody battle of Mooker 
Heath. I had long known the story. But my 
father, to lighten the weariness of a long journey, 
told me, all over again, how the count had sold 
all his estates to raise an army of six thousand 
lancers and three thousand footmen ; and how 
he was met, at the place we were crossing, by a 



NOTHING REMAINS BUT ETERNITY ! 39 

superior force under the Spanish governor, Don 
Louis de Requesens ; and how they battled from 
sunrise till night, when, the count being slain, 
his army was routed, whilst his body could never 
be found. And though the Spanish commander 
was my direct maternal ancestor, yet my heart 
was all for Count Louis ; and in youthful fancy 
I beheld him, iron-clad, spurring his war-horse 
to the last charge, and cheering his followers to 
a last effort. 

I have seen many battle-fields. I have often 
lingered on the fields of Waterloo ; often on the 
plains of Fontenoy ; often on the grounds of 
Morgarten, where Switzerland bought her free- 
dom. But, on all these, the industrious hand of 
succeeding generations has effaced the gloomy 
remembrances of destructive war ; and waving 
cornfields, luxuriant vineyards, and smiling gar- 
dens, make it difficult to realize a scene of de- 
struction and bloodshed. Not so on the heath of 
Mook. It was now as it was two hundred and 
fifty years ago, — the same dreary, undulating 
plain, without thrifty vegetation, without birds, 
without life ; the same gentle-flowing Meuse on 
one side, the same dark forest on the other. 
We passed the same redoubts they had thrown 



40 NOTHING REMAINS BUT ETERNITY ! 

up ; we found the same rusty iron bullets, which 
had lain there two centuries after having done 
their work of death ; we passed the same mounds 
which covered the bodies of the thousands who 
sleep there until the day of judgment. 

All at once, my father stopped on an eminence, 
and pointed toward the Meuse. I gazed with 
spell-bound attention ; for, on the opposite shore, 
I saw a village with its spire. A strange feeling 
came over me. I began to see it all. I knew 
that spire, and that dwelling on the high bank of 
the river. It was my mother's dwelling ! There 
she was with my sister ! I know I trembled all 
over. Nearly two years had passed, and all came 
before my memory in silent sorrow; and there 
it lay, so beautifully reflected in the silvery river. 
I gazed, and looked up to my father. With glis- 
tening eye he stood, a little bent, as if sending 
over thoughts of love and affection. I stretched 
out my arms as high as I could reach, till my 
father caught me up, and fondly kissed me. 
Then he said, "We must go, Leno: we must 
reach M. before dark." 

And so we did. It was evening when we 
knocked at the door of a large two-story house, 
situated on an eminence near the river-shore. A 



NOTHING REMAINS BUT ETERNITY ! 41 

middle-aged gentleman opened to us. Tall and 
stern, but not commanding, he was very polite, 
and seemed to receive my father as if he were 
expected. He immediately showed him to a 
large apartment with a sleeping-room. Welcome 
refreshments were set before us ; and I soon 
thereafter fell asleep in a comfortable bed, leav- 
ing my father in deep conversation with our 
unprepossessing host. 

He was a Frenchman ; one of those plotters 
who try to make themselves available in political 
schemes, and, without aim or plan, delight in 
intrigue, because they prefer crooked paths and 
by-ways. To all the rapacity and harshness so 
common among borderers, he joined none of 
their redeeming traits. His family was large, 
all partaking of the same character, — deceitful, 
vindictive, and rapacious. 

And here I passed another half-year of my 
boyhood, and to me not the less interesting ; 
for therein I began to study Latin, — the ultima 
Thule of my childish ambition. And I remember 
how my father procured me two small books, — 
the one a little dictionary, the other a Latin 
Reader. And the first sentence I remember : 
Amicus certus in re incerta cernitur ; or, as it 

4 



42 NOTHING REMAINS BUT ETERNITY ! 

may be said in English, " A friend in need is a 
friend indeed." And how my father explained 
to me the sense, and gave, as illustration, his 
own case ; mentioning the friends who remained 
faithful to him, whose names I had often read 
on the address of letters carried by myself, — 
friends who at that time occupied high positions. 
Sweet are these remembrances, and embalmed in 
the memories of my soul: for I listened to his 
words with the unsullied faith of childhood ; and 
I learned, not only the forms of things, but the 
things themselves in their nature and bearing. 
And, that same year, I studied the Lives of 
Cornelius Nepos ; and finding how Atticus, keep- 
ing aloof from political parties, lived unmo- 
lested to an old age, I remember saying, " Papa, 
why did not you do the same ? " And my father, 
with his peculiar smile, said, In magnis voluisse 
sat est (" In great undertakings, even the will is 
praiseworthy "). Then I said, I would improve 
the sentence ; and, having received permission, 
said, In magnis noluisse melius ("In great things, 
not to will is safer "). My father laughed, and 
said that I would become a poor scholar and a 
worse statesman. And thus, in the midst of 
dreary privations of all sort, he faithfully pursued 



NOTHING REMAINS BUT ETERNITY ! 43 

his plan of studies ; never allowing a day to pass 
unimproved. 

And the year 1819 began to draw to an end. 
The winter set in with more than common seve- 
rity. It was the 5th of December, — the Eve of 
St. Nicholas, — in those countries a great day 
of rejoicing for children, but to me a day of 
never-to-be-forgotten agony and terror. 

My father's correspondence had been more 
lively than usual ; but his intercourse with Mr. 
Bular, our host, more reserved. For some rea- 
son or other, that day we had not gone down to 
our meals. I had perceived a Prussian gen- 
darme loitering about the house, and was making 
sundry conjectures, when I heard my father in 
the adjoining room in deep and passionate con- 
versation with Mr. Bular. On his side, it was 
all protestations of interest and devotedness ; on 
my father's side, stern and rapidly succeeding 
questions, involving Mr. Bular in the unenviable 
part of being a common traitor. At last came 
the question direct, " What about that Prussian 
ruffian? What is his business here?" No an- 
swer. My father's anger, when roused, was ter- 
rible. I heard a scuffling movement, and my 
father's voice, with metallic distinctness, urging, 



44 NOTHING REMAINS BUT ETERNITY ! 

" Confess, traitor ! confess ! Are there more 
coming? Confess, or I throw you a corpse on 
the floor ! " And I heard the words deliberately 
dropping, " They must be near." — " Then no- 
thing remains but eternity ! " roared my father. 
I heard him throw the miserable man from him, 
leave the room, descend the stairs, and rush out 
of the house. 

The truth flashed upon me. The villain had 
sold my father. Prussian gendarmes were near 
to carry him off to one of the fortresses. Woe 
to the political offender who enters their walls ! 
"Nothing remains but eternity!" sounded like 
the wail of death in my ears. I was already 
down stairs, and out of the house. It was a 
dark and cold night, and the Meuse streamed 
with swollen waters. I did not see my father ; 
but my instinct guided me. 

At a little distance from the house was the 
remainder of a wharf. There I had often stood 
angling. There I had often rested with my 
father, admiring the beauty of a quiet river 
scenery. There I hastened ; and there I found 
him, standing with crossed arms on the brink 
of self-destruction. I came slowly up to him. 
" O papa, papa ! " said I in whispering agony, 



NOTHING REMAINS BUT ETERNITY ! 45 

" where you go, I go ! " He could not resist my 
endearing affection. " They chase me like a 
dog ! " said he. " Listen ! " I listened, and 
heard the horsemen taking successively their 
position around the house. 

I showed my father a small boat attached to 
the wharf. I went down first ; he followed. I 
loosened the rope, and gave a hearty push. We 
had no oars ; but a scoop helped us sufficiently 
to reach the opposite shore. We landed at no 
great distance from the village where my mother 
dwelt. We passed through it. I saw the lights 
burning, and the streets full of happy children. 
As for me, I was hungry, cold, and fatigued. A 
little way from the village, my father stopped at 
a lonely dwelling. Col. P., the same venerable 
friend who was present at the last interview 
of my parents, received him silently, but affec- 
tionately. Whilst partaking of some needful 
refreshments, he explained to my father how 
his position had changed. The Baron de S., the 
chief supporter of his views, was no more. My 
father's friends had used all their influence to 
have his personal safety insured. " Go to S.," 
he said. " You will find at the house of Mr. 
de L. every thing prepared for your reception. 



46 NOTHING REMAINS BUT ETERNITY ! 

Go, my worthy friend ; and, for Heaven's sake, 
abstain from correspondence." 

The village of S. was about seven miles dis- 
tant. Oh, how well do I remember that night's 
walk ! — the sharp cold, the frosty ground, my 
dear father's encouraging voice. And Mr. Bular, 
and the Prussian gendarmes, and the whole ugly 
concern of M., — it was all left behind; and 
soon we should be safe and well. 

And, about ten o'clock, we approached the 
dwelling of Mr. de L. We entered a pleasant 
family room, warm and cheerful. And there 
was Mrs. de L., smiling as the bright morning 
sun, and her blooming children, all happy on 
St. Nicholas Eve ; and they received us like 
expected guests ; and I had my seat near the 
warm stove, and my part in the St. Nicholas 
gifts ; and I was happy , oh, how happy ! until 
bed-time came, and we were shown up stairs ; 
and our kind hostess took me under her especial 
care, — the first blessed woman's care I had re- 
ceived since nearly three years ; and our room 
was neat and cheerful, with tidy beds, and roomy 
writing-table, and various books ; and, when we 
were left alone, I encircled my dear father, and 
broke out in tears. That same evening, what re- 



NOTHING REMAINS BUT ETERNITY ! 47 

vulsion in position and feelings ! What a differ- 
ence between the death-wail, " Nothing remains 
but eternity ! " and the cheerful " Good-night " of 
our amiable hostess ! O God ! thou art a good 
God. I have known thy terrors from early 
youth, and " one deep has called to another : " yet 
I have seen an end of sorrow ; but of thy faith- 
ful kindness never did I find the end, nor even 
the beginning ; for truly our whole life is a con- 
tinued manifestation of thy mercy. 



48 PREPARING FOR THE UNIVERSITY. 



CHAPTER VI. 

PREPARING FOR THE UNIVERSITY. 

The remembrance of S. is sunny all over, with 
one exception soon to be mentioned. I there 
passed a happy winter, a delightful spring, and 
part of a cheerful summer. Political affairs 
seemed less to pre-occupy my father. There was 
less of letter-writing, less of anxiety. My studies 
were pushed with vigor. t Yet my remembrances 
of that period are more of pleasant children's 
play than any thing else. Oh the lasting influ- 
ence of a cheerful housewife and mother ! Mrs. 
de L. is always before me, bright and sunny, 
laughing and busy. She had four children, all 
daughters ; the eldest of my age, the youngest a 
lovely babe of two years. This one became my 
pet. I was unwearied in carrying her about, 
and playing with her; unwearied in gratifying 
her little whims and caprices. And from that 
time I always loved children, sweet little chil- 
dren. The remembrance of little Louise de L. 



PREPARING FOR THE UNIVERSITY. 49 

is even now like a fragrant balm of innocence ; 
and when, in later years, I inquired after her, 
my warm enthusiasm for the dear child was 
greeted with the broad smile of worldliness. 
She had grown to be a very fascinating young 
lady ! Alas ! I remembered only the sweet little 
Louise, the innocent companion of my early boy- 
hood. 

But when the month of April came, with its 
lovely days of spring, my father laid before me a 
letter, communicating the serious illness of my 
dear Valerio, my dear and only brother. And 
the letter was only an introduction to sadder 
news. For, a few days after, came an aged 
friend, who discreetly told the tale of sorrow, — 
how he had died just at the point of reaching 
his eighteenth year, a victim of the yellow-fever ; 
how he had been attended by good and honorable 
friends ; how he had died with sweet remem- 
brance of his parents : yet he died far away, the 
noble first-born of my father ! And I remember 
his grief ; and how he walked forty miles in one 
day to receive some more information ; and how 
he returned at evening, and, throwing his arms 
around me, sat down weeping bitter tears for his 
high-minded and generous boy. 



50 PREPARING FOR THE UNIVERSITY. 

And the loss of my brother cast a deep shadow 
over my early years. I could never believe that 
he was dead, really dead ; and for years I thought 
of the possibility of his returning. 

I was now eleven years old. The education 
thus far received had excited in me an intense 
admiration of antiquity, and an enthusiastic love 
of liberty. The models of Greece and Rome 
were constantly before me. To the question, 
what I wished to be, there was but one answer, — 
a soldier. Even in fencing and horsemanship, 
my father had contrived to give me regular les- 
sons, himself being an excellent fencer and horse- 
man. And my youthful ambition was kindled 
beyond measure when accidentally the works of 
Vauban came into my hands ; and I began to 
study with unrelenting zeal the art of fortifying, 
defending, and attacking cities. Next I found 
the " Life and Deeds of that Heroic Prince, Eu- 
gene of Savoy ; " an old German book, but which 
I studied with all the ardor of enthusiastic admi- 
ration. And in my Latin studies I proceeded 
with equal zeal ; my father promising me, on my 
twelfth birthday, the Commentaries of Caesar, 
should I make sufficient progress to read them. 

And now, in the beginning of summer, there 



PREPARING FOR THE UNIVERSITY. 51 

came a company of military engineers into our 
neighborhood. I asked my father leave to follow 
them, and observe their instruments and opera- 
tions. Among them was the son of one of my 
father's most faithful friends, himself in high 
position. I observed my father in frequent con- 
versation with him. What was the subject, I do 
not know ; but, after a few days, our host, other- 
wise cheerful and kind, became reserved and 
cold. Mrs. de L. looked sad and careful. One 
morning, my father left with me. She accom- 
panied us to the door. Tears were in her eyes. 
She looked long after us, till we were out of 
sight. We walked about six miles, until we 
came to a small village, where my father took an 
upper room, and seemed absorbed in thought. 
There he sat, writing and despatching letter after 
letter, and receiving many ; and his mind seemed 
to be in a violent struggle. 

As far as I can conceive by what followed, his 
friends tried to persuade him to a course of sub- 
mission, and to accept, under the present govern- 
ment, a position which might redeem his fortunes, 
and secure his family against want and humilia- 
tion. But my father's mind was unbending, even 
to stubbornness. Submit to necessity, he would ; 



52 PREPARING FOR THE UNIVERSITY. 

but as for accepting any favor, he disdained. 
His son was dead. His wife's fortunes he con- 
sidered as separate from his own ; since, of her 
own accord, she had taken a different view T , and 
been the cause of my brother's departure and en- 
suing death. For himself and me, he wished 
private employment. 

In the mean time, I pursued my studies. I 
remember having finished there, in that dark 
little upper room, a treatise on mensuration, 
which I had begun at Haret Castle ; and I re- 
member the triumphant joy wherewith I handed 
my father the last sheet. Altogether, the recol- 
lection of the three months which we passed 
there is not unpleasant. It was harvest-time, 
and I enjoyed it very much. There were several 
pensioned officers in the same house ; and I de- 
lighted hearing them relate their various cam- 
paigns. 

At last, there came a letter which seemed to 
decide my father. A position was offered him in 
the city of W., — the education of five sons be- 
longing to three families. We left the country 
where we had been shifting about during more 
than four years ; and on the 8th of September, 
1820, we arrived in W. I remember very well 



PREPARING FOR THE UNIVERSITY. 53 

the strange impression which the paved streets 
and high-story houses made upon my unsophisti- 
cated mind. It seemed all like a prison. And I 
missed sadly the sweet liberty of country life, and 
my solitary rambles through fields and forest. 
But the greater loss was my father's constant 
personal instruction. Advanced beyond all his 
scholars, I could only enjoy his supervision of 
my studies. 

It was happy that he had laid so solid a foun- 
dation. I went on steadily and zealously; for 
my twelfth birthday approached, and Caesar's 
Commentaries were to be the prize for my dili- 
gence. And when it came, and a beautiful copy, 
with cheerful, encouraging inscription, was put 
into my hands, I began to translate it into French 
and German, — for thus my father made me 
study the modem languages ; and I made ex- 
tracts, and plans of Caesar's campaigns, and Caesar 
became my favorite author. 

One of my father's pupils was the only son of 
the mayor of the city, formerly a captain of the 
engineers in the French Army. He was a gen- 
tleman of thorough scientific acquirements, bene- 
volent and exquisitely polite, but weak in health 
since he received a wound in the pillage of the 



54 PREPARING FOR THE UNIVERSITY. 

town by the French during their last struggle to 
retain the country. This excellent man took 
great interest in me. Under his direction, I be- 
gan a regular course of fortification ; and my 
progress in other branches allowed me to devote 
the most part of my time to these, for me, so 
attractive studies. My table was now constantly 
covered with maps and drawings ; and, although 
my worthy instructor died within a few months, I 
continued with unrelenting perseverance. 

The town of W. was a strong fortification, sur- 
rounded by all the necessary outworks. There 
was also the ancient castle, used as a military 
prison. "What suggested the idea, I do not 
know ; but, although just in my thirteenth year, 
I conceived the rather gigantic plan of measuring 
the whole, and making a map on a large scale. 

I constructed my own chain and compass, and 
began with the principal rampart and bastions ; 
next, the outworks ; next, the whole town, with 
its public buildings ; next, the surrounding coun- 
try, to the distance of two miles. The whole 
took me a year ; for none of my other studies I 
neglected, but gave them the lesser part of my 
time. Great was the astonishment of the people 
when seeing a slender boy walking and pacing 



PREPARING FOR THE UNIVERSITY. 55 

and measuring sedulously from morning till night, 
and marking and delineating it all in his note- 
book. My earnest steadiness created respect, 
even among those who were inclined to mock ; 
and, during that whole year, I do not remember 
having ever met with any thing disagreeable. 
But when some friends and acquaintances came 
to visit us, and saw progressively delineated, on a 
large map of some five feet square, the whole of 
the town and walls, and the minute detail of out- 
works and environs; and when each found his 
house or garden or other localities, — the won- 
der was great, and the thing was much talked of. 
I remember having hurried my work to finish it 
before my fourteenth birthday, because my father 
wished me to mark under my name : "JEt. xiii." 

He was offered a place for me at the Military 
Academy for Cadets ; but this would oblige me 
to become an officer under the existing dominion, 
and he would not consent. 

Nor did I care ; for, with wild enthusiasm, I 
looked beyond the limits of our country. Since 
two years, the War of Independence had begun 
in Greece. With what attention did I read the 
successive accounts ! Athens, Sparta, Corinth, 
Thebes, which until now had been the names of 



56 PREPARING FOR THE UNIVERSITY. 

glories long departed, seemed to rise again to 
life. I remembered that one of my lineal an- 
cestors had defeated the Turks in the battle of 
Lepanto. My whole heart was in the contest ; 
and all I wished was to be old enough to go 
there, and conquer fame. " When I am seven- 
teen, will you let me go ? " said I to my father. 
And he promised me I might. And I wrote 
down in short-hand all I could gather in the 
papers concerning the Greek War of Independ- 
ence. I did so for three years, intending to 
write its history. 

I had not yet finished my map of the city, 
when my father said, " Leno, you are progressing 
well in Latin. I see you read Cicero. It is well. 
But there is one thing you need." — "And what, 
papa ? " — " You, who love the Greeks so well, 
— you don't know a word of Greek ! " It was a 
stroke of light. A few books were procured; 
and I remember having studied day after day, till 
I found my way in the grammar of this complete 
and magnificent language. 

In the mean time, all but one of the parents 
had, on account of losses, been obliged to with- 
draw their sons ; and, my father's income being 
much reduced, he made up by translating several 



PREPARING FOR THE UNIVERSITY. 57 

English and German works. As I wrote a very 
distinct hand, I used to copy his translations for 
the press ; and so I remember having, besides my 
map-drawing and studying, copied two volumes ; 
one on the " Moral Improvement of Criminals," 
another on " Political Economy." My father was 
in this assisted by an old acquaintance, Prof. T. 
of the University of L. Seeing my good writing, 
he sent some Latin courses, as they used to be 
dictated in the colleges of law and medicine. I 
copied them ; and remember having risen regu- 
larly at four o'clock in the morning, not to lose 
all my study-time: yea, many a night I passed 
writing, when some copy had to be finished with- 
in a given time. And I see yet the first dollars, 
as from the loosened parcel they rolled on the 
table ! What a peculiar sensation made by that 
first money of my own earning ! Happy times, 
when in poverty I did not feel poor, and the pri- 
vation of sleep, and often of a meal, did not affect 
me ! Happy times, when the growing faculties 
of mind seemed to defy external pressure, and the 
few years of my life offered nothing to regret, 
and little to repent ! 

5 



58 THE MUSEUM. 



CHAPTER VII. 



THE MUSEUM. 



And thus I studied and copied until the year 1823 
drew to an end. I was now fourteen years of 
age, and it became necessary to decide upon my 
future career. For, if I was to be a civilian, I 
was ready for the university ; if a soldier's life 
was my choice, something else had to be done. 
And Professor T. sent one of his intimate friends, 
a most benevolent but shrewd gentleman, to 
probe me. With him I had an interview ; and 
he urged the necessity of preparing for the uni- 
versity. To this I had no objection ; but, in the 
mean time, I would not renounce the military 
glories. In vain he argued that the two could 
not go together. I came boldly forward with 
Caesar and Agricola. At last, I nonplussed the 
good old gentleman : he could not make any thing 
of it ; and, as I afterwards heard, he said that the 
youngster had such an unbounded ambition as to 
make all understanding impossible. 



THE MUSEUM. 59 

However, as my father's labors had become 
more and more literary, Professor T. advised him 
to remove to L., where he would be in a more 
congenial sphere, and where it was supposed that 
the very atmosphere of " Minerva's sacred halls " 
might induce me to relinquish my strong inclina- 
tion toward the more warlike Pallas. 

And thus we came, on the 1st of January, 
1824, to the ancient city of L. Our first quar- 
ters were next to the University Building ; and I 
must say, that I was favorably impressed with the 
venerable antiquity of the cloister walls, where, 
in 1575, William the Taciturn inaugurated the 
seat of European learning; the portraits of the 
Rectors Magnifici, which decorated the hall ; and 
the curiously carved cathedras, from which so 
many luminaries of the learned world had spoken 
their oracles. 

And when, on the anniversary of the illustri- 
ous university, coinciding with my own fifteenth, 
I heard the Latin oration of the Rector Magni- 
ficus, and beheld the victorious competitors, in 
ancient costume, receiving the golden prizes, with 
commending speeches, under the more or less 
prolonged applause of their fellow-students, then 
I began to think that laurels could be gained at 



60 THE MUSEUM. 

the university ; and I resolved, if I became a 
student, once to be crowned with gold. And 
this favorable opinion was strengthened when I 
assisted at a promotion, as it is called, more ma- 
jorum, " according to ancient usage," when the 
candidate, in gown and cape, during three days 
in succession, defends his dissertation and theses, 
the first day against any university professor, the 
second against any doctor, the last against any 
civis academicus or student. This severe trial, 
requiring for a youth considerable nerve, a wide 
range of learning, and great fluency in the Latin 
tongue, seemed to me almost as glorious as a 
battle. 

I became acquainted with many professors and 
students, and had plenty of copying work ; and, as 
I made my copies with taste and intelligence, I 
was amply rewarded, increasing at the same time 
my stock of knowledge. The academical year 
beginning in September, I had several months to 
prepare myself. Meeting accidentally with an 
old copy of Milton's " Paradise Lost," I began to 
apprehend what an epic poem was. With unbri- 
dled ardor I studied the Greek " Iliad," the Latin 
" iEneid," the French " Henriade," the German 
" Messiad," comparing them with the English 



THE MUSEUM. 61 

" Paradise Lost ; " and I remember having come 
to the conclusion, that for invention, and sublime 
simplicity of language, the Greek "Iliad," but 
for depth of thought and strength, as well as 
sweetness of expression, the English " Paradise 
Lost," is superior. 

Immediately after the university celebration 
above mentioned, I wished to surprise my father 
on his birthday with a Latin dissertation ; and I 
chose the Life of Scipio Africanus. I wished to 
show him my desire of uniting learning with war- 
like pursuits. It was the dream of my youth, 
too intellectually trained for the mere material 
of a soldier's life ; too fiery of temper, and too 
strained in ambition, for the peaceful avocations 
of a literary man, even in the cathedras of L. 
And I presented him, on the 1st of March, with 
a neatly bound volume, the writing as near like 
print as possible ; and this little gift kept me 
from persevering in a by-way, which might have 
made my career even less satisfactory than it has 
been. 

The University of L. is celebrated for its Mu- 
seum of Natural History. I do not know if there 
is anywhere one on a grander scale. I do not 
believe so. I often used to wander in its spacious 



62 THE MUSEUM. 

galleries, and to admire the thousands of speci- 
mens of Nature's creation. The space, the order, 
the cleanliness, every thing delighted me. Now, 
there was a position vacant as assistant conserva- 
tor ; and one of our acquaintances insisted that I 
should apply for the same. What induced my 
father or me to think of it, I cannot conceive ; 
for the remuneration was small, the prospects 
moderate, and I never had studied natural his- 
tory. Perhaps the novelty had something to do 
with it. At all events, my father went with me 
to the conservator, a very cold and formal man, 
and presented me as a fit subject for the place. 
The conservator seemed well pleased ; but when 
my father, with pride excusable, though out of 
place, handed him the Latin dissertation, perhaps 
to show him that I was fit for better things, the 
man's feelings evidently changed. He did not 
wish so much learning ; he objected, &c. How- 
ever, the agreement was concluded ; and on the 
following Monday I began my novel career. 

Novel it was indeed. The sight of all these 
insects, spiders, bats, serpents, tigers, lions, and 
birds of all description, was very beautiful ; but 
their scientific names and classification I thought 
intolerable. However, if my principal had wished 



THE MUSEUM. 63 

to attract me, and to introduce me by degrees into 
the mysteries of this science, so new to me, I 
have no doubt but I would have worked it out 
with my usual ardor; and perhaps one day I 
might have satisfied my desire after adventure in 
some exploring expedition. But the Latin dis- 
sertation came to my help. That little book 
had absolutely disgusted my chief. He evidently 
wished to disgust me. He gave me, the first 
day, some thirty pages to copy of a catalogue of 
insects ; the next, some fifty bottles to seal and 
label ; and so on every day. I came home about 
four o'clock, thoroughly saturated with the abomi- 
nations of the spirit-smelling dead-house, as it 
now seemed to me ; and, when Monday morning 
came, I said, in a rather decided tone, " Papa, I 
do not want to go back : I can never be a natural- 
ist." My father smiled, I believe rather approv- 
ingly; and, though afterwards one of my best 
friends was the succeeding conservator of the 
museum, I never meddled with his investigations 
and collections. 

Thus the month of September approached, 
and with it the first great epoch of my life. On 
the 20th of the month, I was enrolled as a 
" citizen of the illustrious University of L." I 



64 THE MUSEUM. 

was decidedly the youngest of the six hundred ; 
rather small and slender in stature, but full of 
hope and determination. And when, the follow- 
ing day, I went to my first college, my father 
embraced me, and said, " This is an important 
day, my dear Leno : go with my blessing, and 
remember ! " 

This was my father's usual admonition. It 
was the epitome of, " Remember where you came 
from, and what you are to be, — the past and the 
future : the past, a line of noble ancestors ; 
the future, a fallen fortune to redeem." 

Thus he used to speak to me in short sen- 
tences, which sunk deep in my heart, and even 
now seem to speak through the dim distance of 
times past. 



THE UNIVERSITY. 65 



CHAPTER VIII. 



THE UNIVERSITY. 



We are naturally disposed to love best what we 
know best, or what is connected with the remem- 
brances of our youth. What gray-haired scho- 
lar does not prefer his Alma Mater to any other 
seat of learning \ And so do I, through the 
dim haze of a checkered life, behold my Alma 
Mater with all the affection of filial devotion. I 
may therefore be considered a little partial ; but 
what I know of university life in Germany and 
France does not answer the beau ideal which 
L.'s antique halls have left me. Nowhere I have 
met with so much reality and simplicity, no- 
where with the same untrammelled freedom, so 
utterly different from roughness and licentious- 
ness. 

But, although enrolled as a citizen of the uni- 
versity, my youthful pride received soon a terrible 
check ; for there, as in most universities, the 
new-comer was considered as green, until it 



66 THE UNIVERSITY. 

pleased one of the various associations of older 
students to recognize him as a student. During 
this time of probation, he is subjected to an end- 
less variety of vexations and humiliations. He 
has no right to wear cap or shirt-collars or whis- 
kers, or any thing which might feed the " spirit 
of pride." He is obliged to doff his hat to any 
older student he meets. Implicit and unbounded 
obedience is his duty, day and night. Whatever 
task or labor is imposed upon him, he has to 
perform. No prank so foolish, no caper so ab- 
surd, but he has to do it at command. It is an 
old custom, and, as such, deep rooted ; but it is 
decidedly a custom wherein the evil far exceeds 
the good it is intended to perform. The most 
plagued take their revenge the next year ; and 
although I have seen the most confirmed dandies 
reduced to a state of pitiable humility, yet, as 
soon as the restraint was withdrawn, they re- 
turned to their old habits with an additional dose 
of peevishness and rancor. But, strange to say, 
during the ten years that I was a citizen of the 
Alma Mater, I never observed a case of revenge 
or continued hostility. The ceremony of recep- 
tion seemed invariably to carry away all bad feel- 
ings. 



THE UNIVERSITY. 67 

After three months' intense suffering, my time 
came, and I was summoned to the Illustrious 
Senate Intro ubiqiie. I was ushered into a small 
room, cold and dreary, where I was furnished 
with the subject of my Latin dissertation, which 
was to prove my fitness or unfitness to become a 
student. The subject was, " A Discussion be- 
tween Megalosomus (large body) and Micromor- 
phus (small form) : which is to be preferred, a 
Large or a Small Stature ? " 

There I sat, without books or dictionary, the 
blank sheets of paper before me. As I was 
small, I soon decided to take the defence of my 
size ; and, as I was just attending a course on 
Plato's Dialogues, I began steadily and sedulously, 
in the style of Socrates' discourses, to discuss the 
argument. Three hours was the time allotted ; 
and I had scarcely put the finishing stroke to 
my work, when I was summoned before the 
Illustrious Senate. After a few moments of 
abuse, my essay was put into my hands, and I 
had to read it. I was a mere stripling, and the 
" senators " were old students ; and although it 
was their customary duty to injure and abuse me, 
yet I could perceive a growing interest in these 
gentlemen. And, when I had finished, the pre- 



68 THE UNIVERSITY. 

sident arose, and, taking a cup of wine, he drank 
it to the health of the new student ; and all con- 
gratulated me, and shook hands; and, having 
received my diploma, I left with feelings of more 
than common satisfaction. For I was aware 
that my earnest endeavor to do " the best I 
could " had conquered respect ; and, during se- 
veral weeks, my essay was in the hands of 
many. 

And now I began to study with renewed zeal, 
and became a favorite with my professors. I 
was also introduced to the Chevalier V. A., pro- 
fessor of jurisprudence, who had been secretary 
to the Prince of the Netherlands; a man of 
eminent talents, great eloquence, and deep wis- 
dom. He and Prof. T. became my chief pro- 
tectors, and have ever since been my sincere and 
kind-hearted friends, not forgetting me, and, 
thirty-five years later, sending me written words 
of consolation and affectionate love. 

And yet the friendship of these two good men 
has been the cause of a great failure in my 
career. Prof. T. wished me to perform my stu- 
dies rapidly, and then to seek in the eastern 
colony of Java a career which might have re- 
deemed our fortunes in less than ten years. The 



THE UNIVERSITY. 69 

chevalier, perceiving my decided talent for lite- 
rature, wished me to become eminent therein, as 
well as in political sciences, with a view to the 
tutorship of the young princes of the Nether- 
lands. And thus I was hesitating, and tried to 
combine what could not nor ought to be com- 
bined ; and this laid the foundation, it is true, to 
wide and solid studies, but it broke the first ardor 
of impulse. 

Yet Providence seemed to interfere, and to 
defeat at once the plan of Prof. T. It was the 
month of November, 1825, and I had entered 
my second university year, attending the lec- 
tures on Roman law, together with those on 
ancient literature. One night, I was studying, 
as was my custom, sitting opposite to my dear 
father, who employed himself in some literary 
work. It was midnight. All at once, my fa- 
ther s features contracted, he sank back in his 
chair, he laid his hand on his heart, and with the 
exclamation, w O God ! what is this % " he re- 
mained motionless, and to all appearance dead. 

I called for help, and ran to two physicians in 
our neighborhood. They bled him. He revived, 
but remained speechless, and paralyzed on the 
left side. 



70 THE UNIVERSITY. 

Whoever has had the patience to read these 
memoirs, may imagine my terror, my grief, my 
sorrow. Since ten years, my life had literally 
been wrapped up in his. I loved him, not only 
as a son ought to love his father, but even, if 
possible, more so. He had been all to me ; he 
had given all to me ; my whole existence seemed 
interwoven with his: and I wept bitter tears 
when I was told that this attack of apoplexy 
would probably return, and take him from me; 
and I watched day and night, without intermis- 
sion, and did not sleep for fourteen nights, until 
exhausted nature gave way to the pressing in- 
stances of the chevalier. 

It was a long and tedious bed of sickness. 
After four weeks, he recovered his speech, and 
called me to his bedside, and said, — 

" Leno, I have done with this world. May 
your career be more useful and more prosperous 
than mine ! I have been deceived, bitterly de- 
ceived. They ought not to have nourished 
expectations which could not be fulfilled. But 
now I have done." 

And he ordered me to fetch him two bundles 
of papers. They were his secret correspond- 
ence, kept up to the very day of his illness. 



THE UNIVERSITY. 71 

With the exception of three letters, he ordered 
me to burn it all, and with it to forget whatever 
unfavorable impressions I might have received. 

And so I did ; but I could not help lamenting 
so many years of anxiety and grief and useless 
struggle for a principle, which in the end had to 
be given up. 

Four months elapsed before my father was 
able to leave his bed ; and even then he was and 
remained paralyzed on the left side. During 
that time and after, I divided my time between 
his care, three or four colleges which I conti- 
nued, and many private lessons which I gave to 
my fellow-students as a means of supplying our 
increased wants. 

For, through the influence of my professors, 
I made many acquaintances ; and, as there were 
always many German and English students, I 
early acquired the habit of speaking their lan- 
guages. 

And, in that time, I remember having once 
given a better proof of my enthusiastic love of 
liberty than of my prudence in political matters. 

It was my turn publicly to answer various 
questions of examination in the historical lec- 
tures of the learned Prof. P. There were some 



72 THE UNIVERSITY. 

eighty students present. I sat at the end of the 
large hall. He reviewed the patriotic behavior 
of Timoleon, who, after having delivered his 
country from tyranny, retired to private life. 

" Do you know, most worthy youth," said the 
professor in his beautiful classical Latin, " with 
whom to compare Timoleon in modern his- 
tory?" 

He scarcely had ended his elegantly turned 
question, when, half rising from my seat, I roared 
at the top of my voice, — 

" Cum Washingtone Americano ! " 

The students were startled at my vehemence. 
The professor was a moment silent, and then 
said emphatically, — 

" Bene ! valde bene ! imo optime ! " (" Well ! 
very well ! yea, excellent ! ") thus indorsing, as 
it were, my sentiment ; though my fellow-stu- 
dents had afterwards a better opinion of my 
smartness than of my prudence ; for it would 
not do, in a newly constituted monarchy, to 
manifest such strong approbation of republi- 
canism. 

How little could I think at that time, that, 
twenty years thereafter, I would seek an asylum 
in the country of Washington ! 



THE UNIVERSITY. 73 

I was now in my eighteenth year ; and the 
next year I had to take my chance in what is 
called the conscription. Should I draw a low 
number, I must enter the army for five years ; 
our means being insufficient to procure a substi- 
tute. Let me be sincere, and confess that I 
secretly wished to be in the necessity of serving ; 
so great remained my desire for military position, 
notwithstanding my two-years' university life, 
and my father's dependent state of health. I 
must confess it ; and, besides the faculties of law 
and literature, I entered that of mathematics, 
so as to enable me to enter with advantage the ar- 
tillery, should my number call me to the ranks. 

And thus I studied hard and many things, and 
drew my lot, at any rate, without much concern. 
I drew so high a number, however, as to place 
me out of reach of conscription to all certainty. 
I remember the frantic despair of a young man 
who drew No. 4, and was, of course, bound to 
march immediately. I went home, and laid my 
No. 434 before my poor old father, whose tears 
ran fast when he beheld me, his only support and 
stay. And I must confess it, O my God ! my 
joy was not as great as it ought to have been ; 
nor did I feel as thankful as I ought to have felt 



74 THE UNIVERSITY. 

for the inestimable privilege of nursing him in 
his disabled condition. 

For more than ten years, my mother's for- 
tunes had been entirely separate from those of 
my father. With her usual strength and inde- 
pendence of character, , she had formed an 
institute for young ladies, and succeeded in 
establishing a well - deserved reputation. My 
sister was always with her, and took part in her 
labors. It was now eleven years since I had 
seen them. Our correspondence was languid, 
though regular; and I heard that both were 
staying some time with a family at H., a city 
about ten miles distant from L. I could not 
resist the wish of seeing them, and went ; and I 
found her as noble and as beautiful as ever, and 
my sister sweet and amiable. One day I spent 
with them, and returned with my sister, who 
came to see her father. Sweet are these recol- 
lections, though not without a mixture of grief; 
for we remembered the time when we were all 
together, and my brother was the life of the 
family. Now he was dead, and buried in a far- 
distant country ; and our parents seemed dead to 
each other, though messages of mutual esteem 
were exchanged. 



THE UNIVERSITY. 75 

My studies were as varied as well could be, 
ranging through literature, jurisprudence, and 
the wide field of mathematical and physical 
sciences ; and my time much employed in giving 
lessons, writing dissertations for those who had 
either no brains or no wish to do it themselves, 
reviewing books and translating others, yea, 
even indulging in the youthful presumption of 
writing a novel. Yet it became necessary to 
pass my examination as a candidate in the fa- 
culty of mathematical sciences ; and, having 
done so, I began to think of competing for the 
golden prize by writing a dissertation on one 
of the prize-questions yearly proposed by the 
five faculties to all the academical citizens of the 
country. 

I had just commenced to gather the materials, 
when the political horizon of Europe began to 
be portentous. In France, the July Revolution 
of 1830 drove the Bourbons from the throne; 
and, in Belgium, the long-gathering thunder- 
cloud burst suddenly. United to the Northern 
Provinces, they had most of the disadvantages 
and few of the advantages of this union. Dif- 
fering in language, in religion, in national cha- 
racter, fifteen years had only imbittered the 



76 THE UNIVERSITY. 

feelings of the two nations ; and what my father 
had often foretold me, as the natural conse- 
quence of misgovernment, finally did happen. 
The Dutch officials were expelled, the troops 
driven away, the authority of the Prince of 
Orange was rejected ; although he tried very 
hard to espouse the cause of the rebelling pro- 
vinces, and was, in consequence, obliged to go 
into voluntary exile to England. 

Since the burning of his correspondence, my 
father had materially changed his views with 
regard to the Orange dynasty. High-minded 
and chivalrous, he did not stop half-way ; but, in 
a political paper which he edited since two 
years, he very warmly supported the cause of 
Orange against Belgium. All the Northern Pro- 
vinces were in a blaze. Volunteer companies 
were organized. The students of the various 
universities formed separate corps ; and the Uni- 
versity of L. was not behind the rest. 

I shall never forget the scene. On the 13th 
of November, two hundred and fifty students, in 
marching costume, with blowing horns and flying 
colors, marched into the ancient Cathedral of St. 
Peter's. There the Venerable Academical Se- 
nate received them to give them a last farewell. 



THE UNIVERSITY. 77 

At the word of command, they halted, and 
forming a crescent, with shouldered arms, lis- 
tened to the heart-stirring words of the Eector 
Magnificus, the Chevalier V. A. " He praised 
their loyalty. He regretted their departure, — 
the hope of many parents, the expectation of a 
country; but they went to avenge the cause of 
injured royalty, the cause of justice, the cause 
of Him who ruleth the battle. They would be 
remembered. They would live in the memory 
of their fellow-students ; and, not least, in the 
memory of those who took their parents' place. 
The Alma Mater sent them forth with grief, but 
with the blessing of God." 

Many were the eyes glistening with tqars at 
that truly solemn moment. It was solemn, be- 
cause all was real. For months they had been 
drilled into perfect discipline by experienced 
army officers, — their leaders. Their destination 
was a post of danger, where an invasion from 
the Belgian provinces was daily expected. They 
entered at once upon the duties of an active sol- 
dier's life ; and when, leaving the church, they 
halted at the City Hall to receive the cartridges, 
paleness crept over the face of many a bystander. 
But, at the word of command, the company was 



78 THE UNIVERSITY. 

in motion, and marched in silence in the direc- 
tion of the frontier ; leaving the pursuits of peace- 
ful Minerva for the arduous and dangerous duties 
at the outposts of G. 

And my heart followed them; but, in the 
midst of my prize-answer, I had been unwilling 
to give up the hope of being crowned. The 
horn which daily called the forming company to 
the drill had not disturbed me in my assiduous 
labor ; and so I worked until it was too late of 
thinking to join my fellow-students. And, on 
the first day of November, I sent my dissertation 
to the Secretary of the University. Not wish- 
ing, in case of failure, to disappoint my father, 
I had kept it secret from him; but now, my 
hands being free, the thought of entering the 
army pre-occupied me unceasingly. 

Prof. T. urged my father's helpless condition. 
The Chevalier V. A. smiled at my idea, and ad- 
vised me not to follow it. Why he smiled, I 
shall have occasion to explain hereafter; but, 
when I consulted my father, he remained immo- 
vable in his opinion, "It was my duty to go." 
And so I went to the brave Major V. D., who 
was levying a free corps of chasseurs ; and I 
offered my services. They were cheerfully ac- 



THE UNIVERSITY. 79 

cepted; and on the 1st of December, 1830, I 
embraced my dear father, and left for the fron- 
tier city of T., where my corps was organizing. 
It was the first time I had ever left him ; and, 
notwithstanding the natural buoyancy of my 
spirits, I must confess that it was a severe trial. 
But I left with him the excellent Prof. T., whose 
dwelling adjoined our quarters, and whose kind 
attention I knew. I left him ; and his last 
" Remember ! " sounded long in my ears. 



80 THE ARMY. 



CHAPTER IX. 



THE ARMY. 



Do my readers know what is a student's life ? It 
is essentially what Cicero calls the climax of hap- 
piness, — otium bene occupatum, "leisure well 
employed." I was an early riser ; perhaps, in this, 
an exception. At four o'clock I lighted my study 
lamp, and, until seven, went through my deepest 
studies. Then came a solitary breakfast; and 
from eight o'clock I visited the various lectures I 
had to attend. After noon, I had my private les- 
sons. Towards three, I met my dear old father 
at a frugal dinner : then we had a pleasant chat. 
I took a walk with some fellow-student, paid a 
visit to one of the Viri Clarissimi, or took a cup 
of tea with some congenial friends ; but at seven 
o'clock, like every working student, I was in my 
room, and not at home. This was the even tenor 
of our life, interrupted now and then by a Satur- 
day's excursion or a supper at one of our learned 
professors' ; and on Sunday, by the church-going 



THE ARMY. 81 

bell, when each one found out his favorite 
preacher ; and you might see, in the ancient 
churches once devoted to Catholic worship, hun- 
dreds of young men, listening with respectful 
attention to sermons of from one to two hours' 
duration. 

And / went there ; for a difficulty which I had 
with one of my fellow-students led to a serious 
explanation with the chevalier, who, though a 
man of the court, and therefore of the world, was 
nevertheless a stanch advocate of Calvinism. 
And I began to see, that, with my stoic philoso- 
phy, I was out of the way : for in that country, 
O reader ! to belong to no church is considered 
synonymous with infidelity ; and to be an infidel is 
considered not only a lack of judgment, but even 
a reproach. " How do you know," said the che- 
valier in his vehement though polite manner, — 
" how do you know that not to be true which you 
don't know % And what right have you, through 
your ignorant unbelief, to offend others who are 
better instructed \ " 

And I remember how I quailed before his 
piercing eye, and felt the truth of his reproof. I 
had read the Scriptures, but with the intention of 
seeing nothing in them but a venerable record 



82 THE ARMY. 

of antiquity. And I had learned many things 
concerning the First Cause and man's creation and 
destiny ; but of God's providence, and his relation 
to sinning creatures, — of the scheme of Christi- 
anity, in one word, — I was deeply ignorant. 

I went to one of the theological lights of the 
time, and asked his advice. He recommended to 
me his work, " The Way of Salvation," in two 
volumes : and I left him discouraged ; for he 
used many technical terms which I could not 
understand. My father smiled when I told him, 
and advised me to go to the French Walloon 
minister : " There you belong," he said, " and 
there you will be understood." And so it was. 
With courtly politeness, I was received at once as 
a catechumen ; and, during a whole year, I never 
failed to go to my weekly lesson. I went through 
a regular course, learned a great number of texts, 
passed a very creditable examination before the 
consistory, made my profession on the following 
Sunday, and partook of the Lord's Supper. I 
was moved to tears, and wrote very edifying let- 
ters to my mother and sister. Yet, O my God ! 
I remained estranged from thee, my Beginning 
and my End. Those tears and those burning words 
were the emotions of the carnal mind ; and there- 



THE ARMY. 83 

fore time dried them up and blunted them, until, 
years and years thereafter, thou openedst the 
fountain of thy goodness and mercy unto thy 
servant. 

Yet I believed, and, like all converts, sought to 
convert whom best I loved. And I persuaded 
my father to read the Scriptures, and procured 
him a Geneva translation in large type. It was 
my parting gift ; and little did I think that in my 
absence it would work in him what as yet I 
knew only by name, — a slow but thorough con- 
version and reconciliation. 

With these social habits and religious views, I 
arrived at T., and took my quarters in the bar- 
racks. It was a startling transition. Instead of 
the quietness of Minerva's city, the bustling 
turmoil of a frontier place ; instead of the com- 
panionship of congenial, gentlemanly students, 
the forced society of rude volunteers from all 
classes and all quarters ; instead of the dignified 
kindness of our learned professors, the rough and 
dictatorial harshness of sergeants and officers ; 
instead of the delightful morning studies, the 
shrill reveille and morning roll-call ; instead of 
the learned lectures and interesting experiments, 
the two hours' morning drill ; instead of the sim- 



84 THE ARMY. 

pie but cheerful dinner with my old father, the 
onslaught, in companies of five, upon a pot of 
radatouille. Truly it was a great change. And 
when, on the second day, I had signed my name, 
and was thus enlisted as a soldier, to serve as 
long as the war should last, I felt as if I had 
done a rash thing, and wished the war to be of 
short duration. But my vexation increased when 
I perceived that I was not even considered as a 
volunteer. " What volunteer ! " exclaimed an 
officer, who gave me a stern command, and whom 
I politely reminded of our being volunteers. 
" Here are no volunteers. You were a volunteer 
until you signed the articles ; but, since, you are 
a soldier, and must obey." The man's logic 
startled me and others at first ; but, after all, he 
was not wrong. 

Most of the corps being old soldiers, the or- 
ganization took little time ; and we were sent to 
reduce a frontier province into obedience, which 
had begun to sympathize with the Belgians. 
This was a hard and in many respects a danger- 
ous service. We were often divided into small 
bands, and had strict orders to keep our carabines 
loaded, and never to touch any food which had 
not previously been tasted by our hosts ! Fana- 



THE ARMY. 85 

tical and ignorant, bitter and treacherous, they 
considered all means as fair ; and many a chas- 
seur was cut off, and never heard of afterwards. 

One night, a small detachment was quartered 
in an extensive brewery. They were rich people, 
and considered as the most, influential among the 
disaffected. It was a large and well-built house, 
with huge fire-places in the Flemish style. We 
were entertained with unbounded liberality ; and 
the daughter of our host, a real Braban^onne 
beauty, drew not a little of our attention. Stately 
and proudly she moved among the rough soldiery, 
her dark eye flashing fire ; nor did she heed the 
words of rude admiration. She sat down, and 
rested her beautiful head on a snow-white hand. 
Wine and beer were liberally given, and the men 
began to sing wild songs. The groups of inha- 
bitants increased, and their sulky mien seemed 
threatening. There was something mysterious 
about the whole, which made me a keen observer 
of all that was going on. 

I took my seat near the fascinating beauty, 
and heard her words of grief and wounded pride. 
The mother approached, a venerable, gray-haired 
lady ; and with a suppressed sigh sat down, ap- 
parently exhausted with fatigue. My name was 



86 THE ARMY. 

called ; and, as I answered the interpellation, the 
mother, who had been looking at me with atten- 
tion, was startled. She laid her hand on my 
shoulder, and asked with deep emotion, " Who is 
your father?" And, when I named him, she 
fell back in her chair, and exclaimed, " Blessed 
Virgin ! it is he ! " And she told me how this 
village had belonged to my ancestral patrimony, 
and how I had often been there when yet a little 
child ; and she took my two hands, and, looking 
steadily in my face, exclaimed with the fondness 
of prolix old age, " Is it you indeed, — you, the 
son of that good and generous man ? " 

At this moment, the song of the chasseurs rose 
wild in the spacious halls ; a shrill whistle pierced 
the outside darkness; and the daughter turned 
her proud head, and said in a tone of deep emo- 
tion and heartfelt pity, " Mother, if you will save 
him, do it now, or it will be too late" 

I rushed to the commanding sergeant, and 
whispered impetuously into his ear, " Call the 
men off, or we are lost ! " And, seizing the horn- 
blower's horn, he ran to the door, already thronged 
with people, and blew the startling alarm-blast. 

In a moment, the chasseurs, accustomed to sud- 
den appeals, were on their feet, and, carabine in 



THE ARMY. 87 

hand, fell into the ranks. The sergeant rapidly 
counted his men ; and the small detachment 
marched, with blowing horn, to headquarters. 
If we were surprised, our lurking enemies were 
more so. Their treacherous attempt was defeated ; 
for, if it was easy to surprise a few men whilst 
luxuriating in drink and good cheer, it was not 
so when in the open field and on their guard. 

I need not say that I was deeply moved by the 
sudden occurrence. It was a hairbreadth escape. 
To all the questions of the sergeant, I answered 
that I would myself report to the commander. His 
friendship I enjoyed; and some letters, impru- 
dently sent by my father in a newspaper, having 
accidentally come to his notice, he had been 
struck by the tone of love and confidence between 
father and son, and since treated me with marked 
distinction. I reported to him what I had seen 
and heard, without involving the owners of the 
house, but rather leaving the impression that we 
owed our safety to their warning. 

One morning, in the month of January, I re- 
turned to the guard-house, having accomplished 
my two hours' duty as sentinel, the last two of the 
allotted twelve, when the sergeant remitted me 
two letters. The one was from my father. I tore 



88 THE ARMY. 

it open. It began with words of joy and blessed 
happiness. His son had carried the golden prize. 
The chevalier and Professor T. had called upon 
him, and communicated the happy intelligence, 
which, like the latter rain upon a parched soil, 
came so unexpectedly, so refreshingly, to gladden 
his lonely old age. 

And it was so. I opened the other letter : it 
was from the secretary of the faculty of mathe- 
matical and physical sciences, instructing me, 
that " to a prize-answer signed with the motto, 
Qiiomnqiie oculos, &c, the faculty had awarded 
the golden medal; and that, on opening the 
sealed ticket, my name having been found, I was 
summoned to appear on the seventh day of Feb- 
ruary, before the Faculty, to give further proof 
of being the author, and, this being satisfactory, 
to receive, on the following day, the prize of my 
diligence." 

And I must say, that my first thought was of 
my father and of his joy ; the next was that 
of gratified ambition. For once, I had succeeded 
in uniting military honor with the achievement 
of literary fame. A soldier in what was deemed 
the cause of loyalty, I should receive the academi- 
cal palm. 



THE ARMY. 89 

And when, that same day, we had to march 
some twenty miles through heavy rains and muddy 
roads, and, at the end of our toil, found only 
toward midnight our forlorn, miserable quarters, 
I felt very little fatigue, very little hunger ; and, 
when I lay down on the scanty straw, I believe I 
dreamed of my father, of L., of the prize-answ r er, 
and of the medal. 

Yet there was a drawback in my felicity. We 
were in a hostile country, in active service. How 
could I expect to obtain leave of absence, even 
for a few days 1 And my father, foreseeing the 
difficulty, expressed the opinion that I should 
not leave my corps, unless the circumstances were 
entirely favorable. 

And it was not until the 3d of February, 
when we had just performed a wearisome march, 
that, towards midnight, I went up to the quarters 
of my commander, and exposed my dilemma. 

" I give you leave," he said, "but under one 
condition ; and that is, that you will receive the 
medal in your soldier's uniform." 

I never promised any thing more gladly. It 
was all I wished. And, on the following day, I 
set out, with knapsack and carabine ; and ar- 
rived on the 7th in L., in time to undergo the 

7 



90 THE ARMY. 

necessary examination, to rest from my journey, 
and to pass a happy, happy day with my father. 
It was the last day of my twenty-first year : the 
next would be my anniversary, — the day of my 
coronation, the day of Pallas and Minerva ! 



ACADEMIC HONORS. 91 



CHAPTER X. 

ACADEMIC HONORS. 

Youth is generous, and, when not narrowed by 
the trammels of fashionable life, a liberal appre- 
ciator of merit and honor. When, on the 8th 
of February, I had donned, with more than 
usual care, my graceful chasseur's uniform, and, 
with my father's wishes and blessing, went to 
the antique University Hall, I met a crowd of 
hundreds of my fellow-students ; and many were 
the cheerful congratulations whilst I passed into 
the senate-room. There I found half a dozen of 
noble young men, who, in court-dress, were wait- 
ing the signal for the procession; and one of 
L.'s oldest students, who, like myself, in soldier's 
uniform, was about to receive his crown. And 
the beadles came with their stately staves, and 
with sonorous voice sang out, "Hora est audita!" 
And the Rector Magnificus took the lead, fol- 
lowed by the grave professors in their flowing 
robes; and next came we, the two soldiers, to 



92 ACADEMIC HONORS. 

whom the honor of precedence was given ; whilst 
the other victors in the noble battle of mind and 
learning closed the train. And, whilst the rector 
ascended the highest cathedra, the professors 
took their seats on each side, the doctors behind 
them, and we on the first bench opposite the 
rector. The large hall was filled to overflowing 
with students ; and the high galleries, with ladies 
and other spectators. And my heart beat high, 
and I wished to have met my father's gaze and 
satisfied smile ; but he was in his humble room, 
disabled and an invalid. 

After a silence of reverent expectation, the 
rector began his discourse on " The Immoderate 
Strife after Liberty, the Cause of Europe's Cala- 
mities." In glowing language, with an eloquence 
and a Latinity worthy of Cicero, he depicted the 
miseries entailed on Europe by the hazardous 
attempts, in Poland, Italy, Spain, France, and 
Belgium, to overturn the existing dominions. 
The chevalier (for it was he) was an ardent 
champion of "the divine right of kings;" and 
he had, at that time, the majority in his favor. 
But the noble-hearted Prof. T., though devoted 
to the reigning dynasty, was liberal at heart, and, 
unable to control his feelings, arose, and said 



ACADEMIC HONORS. 93 

with his own peculiar emphasis, " Protesto ! " 
The audience respected the silver-haired profes- 
sor's independence ; and the chevalier, with a 
smiling " Licitum ! " proceeded, and was covered 
with a thundering applause ; a tribute, I believe, 
more to his matchless eloquence than to the 
principles which he so ably defended. 

Then the academic secretary arose, and read 
the detailed criticisms on each of the prize- 
answers sent ; and, when he sat down, the 
rector called the first, who happened to be my 
fellow-soldier, and, in a graceful address, remit- 
ted to him the prize of learning and diligence. 
Little did he think, when, the hand raised in 
military salute, he stood before the rector, that, 
as Governor-general of Netherlands' India, he 
would, for five years, have absolute dominion 
over fourteen millions of subjects, and return to 
his country loaded with wealth and honors ! 

When my own turn came, I was paralyzed by 
contending feelings. The rector had to repeat 
three times his whispered invitation, "Accede ad 
heme cathedram ;" and, when I stood before 
him, the chevalier's eye was glistening with 
emotion (for he loved me truly and verily) ; and 
with a voice, which, from pathetic tenderness, 



94 ACADEMIC HONORS. 

rose gradually to the highest pitch of power, he 
said, — 

" I just now praised filial piety, which, of all 
virtues, I think the most amiable. How must I 
feel affected when beholding thee, O most be- 
loved Leno ! whom I wish to commend to all 
thy fellow-students as the true and express image 
of true filial piety % Thou art the only consola- 
tion, the only support, of an infirm father, old 
in age, and afflicted by adversity. The hours 
which others use to pass in pleasure, or relaxa- 
tion of the mind, thou spendest in nursing and 
fostering and sustaining thy father. Receive, 
then, this prize of honor, O parent- nursing son ! 
Such as I know thee toward thy father, such 
wilt thou be toward thy country. Of this hope, 
the prize which thou hast carried, and the mili- 
tary dress wherein thou appearest, seem to be a 
sure and double pledge." 

Oh the double crown which on that day I re- 
ceived ! For, truly, the wreath which so great 
and good a man twined around my youthful 
head in words of eloquent approval was greater, 
far greater, crown to me than the golden prize 
which he put in my trembling hand. 

And, staggering with emotion, I descended 



ACADEMIC HONORS. 95 

the steps, whilst a threefold applause burst from 
my fellow-students ; a proof that they were 
generous sons, and that many of them would 
have done as well, or better, if placed in the 
same circumstances. 

And for these circumstances I bless thee, O 
my God ! the Fountain of my existence. For, 
if I had lived in wealth or moderate riches, the 
little good which was in me could not have been 
brought out; and the evil which was in me, 
thou knowest it, might have overgrown the 
good. 

To thy honor, then, have I recorded these 
words of commendation : for to thee I owe the 
good, and to thee the occasion of growing in it ; 
and, by thy will and dispensation, this man be- 
came the messenger of thy approval. 

And having given my father the remainder of 
the day, and seen that all was right concerning 
his comforts, and recommended him to the care 
of the honest people where we had our rooms, 
I packed on the following morning my knapsack, 
and, arrayed in marching costume, stood before 
my father, whose tears ran fast with joy and 
sorrow, and truly received his blessing, and 
began my long and wearisome march to the 



96 ACADEMIC HONORS. 

frontier. For I had spent much money in has- 
tening to see him, but now I had to save ; and, 
with reluctant steps, I marched several days, till, 
on the 13th of February, I discovered the walls 
of Bois-le-Duc, where my corps was quar- 
tered. 

It was nearly night, a frosty winter night, 
when I passed Fort Isabel. Its high walls and 
threatening cannon brought strange remem- 
brances to my mind. For there my great- 
grandfather had commanded in the war with 
Louis XV. ; wherein, at his own expense, he 
brought four companies in the field, and led 
them in the battle of Fontenoy, and cheered 
them in the murderous charge, under grape-shot 
and grenades, with, "Never mind the pease, my 
men ! never mind ! " And the States, to reward 
his services, intrusted to him Fort Isabel, the 
key of Bois-le-Duc, itself the key to the North- 
ern Provinces. Leaning on my carabine, I gazed 
at the massive walls, and thought how strangely 
our fortunes had fallen ; and I thought of my 
poor disabled father in his scantily furnished 
room at L., and of my mother, and of my sister, 
and of my brother buried on the other side of 
the Atlantic, until the drum and fife and the 



ACADEMIC HONORS. 97 

long-drawn note of the chasseurs' horns awa- 
kened me from my revery. It was the tattoo ; 
and I had to hasten my step to reach the gate in 
time. 

The following morning, we marched from 
Bois-le-Duc to the frontier of Braband. There 
was at that time an armistice concluded between 
the two belligerent parties. The Belgians had 
received a king. They organized their country, 
it must be said, with amazing rapidity. Yet it 
took some time before the blouse, that emblem 
of the July Revolution, was banished from th eir 
ranks. Their unruly bands used to make con- 
tinual invasions in our territory. We were kept 
in perpetual alarm ; and once a hundred volun- 
teers were asked, I believe, to help in teaching 
them a lesson. They were soon mustered, and 
marched to the frontier line, and there en- 
camped. Mutual transgressions over the line 
were of daily occurrence. There was an inn 
situate on the line, which ran through the bar- 
room ; a black stripe on the floor marking the 
separation between the two hostile territories. 
And there the officers and soldiers used to re- 
pair, and, each keeping his ground, to empty 
many a glass to each other's success. One morn- 



98 ACADEMIC HONORS. 

ing, it was known that a large body of marauders 
would pass the line. A detachment was sent in 
ambuscade ; whilst the commanding officer went 
to the inn, where he was sure to find the Belgian 
chief. With friendly discourse, he kept his 
attention engaged until a few gunshots startled 
him. 

" What is that 1 " cried he. 

" Nothing, monsieur," said the officer, u but a 
few shots in honor of your soldiers, who have 
become our guests." 

And thus we passed the spring, until we were 
directed to Tilburg ; where soon the headquar- 
ters were established, and the bulk of the army 
began to be concentrated. The Prince of Orange 
had returned from England, and assumed the 
supreme command. From all quarters, troops 
began to arrive ; and we heard that another 
division was organizing under the Duke of S axe- 
Weimar, and a third under Gen. Van Geen. 
An invasion of Belgium was at hand ; and with 
cheerful expectation we waited for the order, 
" Forward ! " 

During all that time, I read diligently the 
classics, which, in miniature form, I carried in my 
knapsack. I remember having read through 



ACADEMIC HONORS. 99 

Virgil and Horace, and still reverence the little 
books for the pleasure they afforded me during 
many an hour of solitary watch. And with my 
father I kept a regular correspondence. His 
letters were full of love and confidence. There 
was a work going on in him, which then I could 
not understand. " The Bible," he said, "I gave 
him, was a treasure ; it had become his daily 
morning bread." And soon he asked for the 
Holy Communion; and, leaning on the arm of 
a faithful servant, he came to the church pub- 
licly to confess the divinity of Him whom so 
long he had only reverenced as a human teacher. 
Thus didst thou, O God ! visit his patient loneli- 
ness, and sweeten the last days of his troubled 
life. 



100 THE BATTLE OF LOUYAIN. 



CHAPTER XL 

THE BATTLE OF LOUYAIN. 

War has two sides, — the preparation and the 
execution. If it were not for the bloody scenes 
and unspeakable miseries of the last, the first 
might be said to have its attractive beauties. 
Thousands of men in the freshness of youth, 
variously equipped, and skilfully banded together 
in companies and battalions and regiments and 
brigades and divisions, moving and contracting 
and extending, like an immense body animated 
by one spirit and obeying one leader, with the 
rapidity and precision wherewith we are accus- 
tomed to move the mechanism of our body at the 
command of our mind, — it is indeed a master- 
piece of moral and physical power ; it is an 
exhibition of harmony, which cannot but leave 
an impression of grandeur, until the horrors of 
a battle-field withdraw the curtain, and show the 
demon of war in its unutterable hideousness. 
The Prince of Orange had arrived at the head- 



THE BATTLE OF LOUVAIN. 101 

quarters of Tilburg. He ordered a review of 
the first and second divisions, — together about 
twenty-four thousand men strong. At daybreak, 
we marched to the place of rendezvous ; and 
about noon we had formed our lines. The 
Prince passed in sweeping gallop, followed by a 
numerous staff; and then, taking his stand about 
the middle of the immense line, he gave words 
of command. The generals took up his order 
in long-drawn tones, and the colonels repeated it 
with stern distinctness ; until, at the last emphatic 
syllable, one tremendous clash brought twenty 
thousand muskets to the shoulder. Another 
command was given, and in a few moments the 
immense lines were ranged in serried columns. 
Soon we heard another command still ringing 
over the extensive plain ; and a rattling sound, 
like distant thunder, announced the approaching 
cavalry. It swept by in huge masses, — two 
thousand cuirassiers with their glittering armor 
like a beam of light in the brilliant sunshine, 
and the hussars with their waving plumes and 
picturesque dolmans, and the lancers with their 
gay and variegated streamers. At the third 
command of " Halt ! " repeated at intervals, the 
rushing mass stood motionless ; and, for a few 



102 THE BATTLE OF LOUYAIN. 

moments, there was a breathless silence. But 
soon command followed command, and with 
dashing speed the flying-artillery broke through 
between the cavalry and ourselves. Clouds of 
dust followed their passage ; and it was scarcely 
allayed when we perceived that the defile had 
commenced. And when our turn had come, 
and we had vented our patriotism in a hearty 
"Hurrah!" we marched back to our quarters, 
where we arrived at night, with the prospect 
of one day's rest, and then "Forward!" 

The Belgian Government relied for its secu- 
rity upon two armies, — that of the Scheldt, in 
the west, under the orders of Gen. Tiecken, 
and that of the Meuse, in the east, under Gen. 
Daine. The Prince of Orange marched straight 
between the two. "We took Turnhout, the scene 
of the heroism of Prince Mauritius of Orange ; 
and my fellow-students of L. fought a hard bat- 
tle at Beringen, where two of the noble company 
fell, and several were wounded. When, at Gheel, 
the Prince had established his head-quarters, 
it needed all the confidence which he inspired ; 
for we were enclosed between two powerful 
armies. But it was in vain that Gen. Daine 
tried to effect a junction with the army of the 



THE BATTLE OF LOUVAIN. 103 

Scheldt. Battle after battle was fought, city 
after city taken ; and we entered Diest. 

I shall never forget that morning's march. 
It was harvest-time, and the surrounding country 
seemed to exult in the endless variety of its sur- 
passing beauty. All along the roadside, the 
peaceful dwellings of the humble peasants were 
empty and deserted ; and in the distance we could 
see them fleeing with what they could carry off. 
It was, to me at least, a painful sight. Hardened 
indeed must be the man who can see a single hu- 
man being suffering, and not sympathize : what, 
then, if he is part of a force which spreads terror 
and desolation amongst the defenceless % Wagon 
after wagon passed, filled with mutilated sol- 
diers ; for it was a short but continuous struggle. 
For them I felt ; but I knew that my turn might 
come. But the sight of mothers carrying their 
babes, and of children fleeing with their scanty 
possessions, humbled me, — pained and morti- 
fied me. 

We encamped out of Diest ; for our corps was 
in the vanguard, and it was my turn to be on 
watch. Far away and scattered were the out- 
posts ; and, when at night I stood sentinel, I could 
clearly see the enemy's vedettes. I stood behind 



104 THE BATTLE OF LOUVAIN. 

a cornfield, and kept wide awake: for it was 
rumored that Gen. Daine intended that night 
to make a last attempt to break through, and join 
the western army; and, in cases of sudden attack, 
the outposts are first to be silenced. 

I saw a shadowy form moving in the waving 
stalks, and the faint glimmering of a bayonet; 
and, levelling my carabine, I cried, " Werda ! " 
and, receiving no answer, I fired. Reloading 
immediately, I kept ready ; when a sudden dash 
was made near the same place. I fired a second 
time ; heard an exclamation ; and was glad when 
a corporal and two men came at a running pace 
to my relief. The post was doubled. We heard 
many distant gunshots, but remained unmolested 
until daybreak ; when, searching the spot, we 
found the traces of a hiding-place and of blood. 

The same day, Gen. Daine began to retreat. 
The Duke of Saxe -Weimar intercepting him, his 
flight soon became disastrous ; and we had done 
with the army of the Meuse. 

And now the Prince of Orange resolved to 
march upon Louvain. Long before daybreak, 
we were called to the ranks. There was no 
noise of drum or horn. In deepest silence, our 
vanguard was despatched to clear the way. For 



THE BATTLE OF LOUYAIN. 105 

some time, we followed the chaussee : then we 
turned to the left, — a narrow path up hill. We 
had scarcely entered it, when a gun was fired 
behind. It was a sentinel, who gave the alarm 
too late ; being surprised by our cautious march. 
Less awake than I had been on a similar occa- 
sion, he paid his drowsiness with death ; for he 
was shot whilst retreating. And when, some days 
thereafter, we passed the same road, we found 
him on the spot, — a tall and handsome youth; 
and the chasseur who shot him quietly took off 
his shoes, and put them on in exchange for his 
own, which had seen long and hard service. 

We continued our ascent ; and, having reached 
the summit of the hill, extended en tirailleurs 
along a hedge. We were received with a well- 
sustained fire, obliged to rejoin our column, and 
pushed on. Extending again, we had the whole 
line of tirailleurs before us. Some of our men 
fell ; and the cry of "Cavalry /" threw a moment- 
ary panic among them. Retreating upon the 
chief column now advancing, we rallied, forming 
a separate body ; and became entangled in a hol- 
low way, when a galling fire carried off half a 
dozen of our best men. A swarm of hostile 
chasseurs covered the hill above us, and our 

8 



106 THE BATTLE OF LOUYAIN. 

position became critical. We fortunately got 
out of the hollow road, and found refuge behind 
a low mud wall. We were about fifteen left; 
and I observed that our lieutenant took a lengthy 
draught from his field-bottle. The enemy de- 
scended the hill, and we fired with indefatigable 
rapidity. We had the advantage of a good mark 
and a shelter. A heavy mist came to our help. 
We heard on the other side of the hill the can- 
nons roaring. Suddenly, the enemy, who had 
until now slowly descended, turned, and retreated 
in haste. Following the direction of the cannon, 
we soon emerged from our isolated position, and 
rejoined our corps, who had given us up for 
lost. 

The battle had now fairly begun. Our grape- 
shot did terrible execution on two regiments 
occupying the centre of the enemy's position. 
We were ordered to attack their left flank. They 
disputed the ground, inch by inch. During more 
than two hours, we advanced steadily, giving and 
receiving fire. This kind of fight often became 
personal. I remember having followed the same 
chasseur, a huge and bearded fellow, for perhaps 
a quarter of an hour, exchanging more than six 
shots ; until my bullet brought death to him, re- 



THE BATTLE OF LOUVAIN. 107 

lief to me. And I remember the cool reflections 
of my companion ; for tirailleurs go always two 
by two : " You will not hit him ! Too high ! 
Now take your chance ! " 

A cry was raised, " The Prince is killed ! " It 
was a false alarm. He had a horse shot under 
him ; but, immediately mounting another, we soon 
saw him in full gallop, followed by his staff. I 
shall never forget the cheerful smile, with which, 
waving his hand, he cried to us, "Well done, 
chasseurs ! we shall soon be in Louvain ! " On 
he rode under a hail of cannon-balls ploughing 
the earth, and raising dust enough to hide his 
white plume from our sight. But on he rode un- 
til he reached the Peltenberg ; and thence with 
his spyglass surveyed the enemy's position. 

There lay the ancient city of Louvain before 
us. But, on the plain between, the enemy had 
concentrated all his forces ; and a formidable 
array of artillery extended in front of the city. 
Our troops halted on the declivity of the hill. I 
suppose the Prince foresaw great loss of life, 
should he continue the attack; and he waited 
for the co-operation of the Duke of Saxe -Wei- 
mar, who, by a circuitous route, was to turn the 
city. But, as it was, it was a severe trial ; for 



108 THE BATTLE OF LOUVAIN. 

the enemy's artillery thundered unceasingly. 
There I saw the regiments of the Frisian militia 
standing immovable, with shouldered musket, 
under the most galling fire ; there I saw the 
same cannon-ball taking off one man's feet, an- 
other's legs, and a third's head, according as they 
stood on the declivity. The same shot carried 
off the leg of the brave Col. Gaillere and that of 
his son, both of the cuirassiers. But the whole 
army remained immovable, except the artillery; 
and the Prince stood with his staff, motionless, as 
if bidding defiance to their endeavors. 

At last, a flag of truce was seen advancing ; 
and the British charge d'affaires^ Sir Robert Adair, 
requested the Prince to grant an armistice ; add- 
ing the information, that a French army of fifty 
thousand men had come to the rescue of Bel- 
gium. " I shall take Louvain," answered the 
Prince, " and see about the French." Another 
half-hour of firing ensued, when the distant 
thundering of heavy cannon announced Saxe- 
Weimar's approach. There was now a stir in 
the whole army ; and we expected the order of 
" Forward ! " when a second flag of truce ap- 
peared, and an officer was led blindfolded before 
the Prince. An armistice was conceded, under 



THE BATTLE OF LOUVAIN. 109 

the condition, that, the following day, our troops 
should enter Louvain with flying colors. 

It was four o'clock. Fatigued, we took our 
positions for our bivouac. That night I slept 
well and soundly ; but I know I never thought 
of thee, my God, nor of thy mercy in preserving 
me, nor of the work in which I had been en- 
gaged. 

In the morning, when the roll was called, 
twenty-six were missing of the two hundred and 
fifty ; and there was a gloom over all, for many 
of these men were brave and good. The rest of 
the day was spent in repose, and in visiting the 
venerable city of Louvain. I did not go. I felt 
as if I could not enjoy the hard-bought, and, after 
all, useless triumph over a people who had been 
misguided, and galled into insurrection by mis- 
government. I began to doubt the motives of 
this invasion ; for, at twelve miles' distance from 
the capital, we were arrested just in point of 
time by a French army superior in numbers. 
The Prince of Orange, contented, it would seem, 
with having recovered his lost popularity, agreed 
to leave the following day with a victorious army, 
the fruit of a campaign masterly combined and 
strenuously achieved. " We leave to-morrow ! " 



110 THE BATTLE OF LOUYAIN. 

we said in astonishment: " we return the same 
road we came ! Why not fight these French- 
men % Why retire as if we were not in the 
territory of the lawful king?" 

And, when the ranks were formed, the com- 
mander read an order of the day, wherein the 
Prince expressed his satisfaction, and gave rea- 
sons, plausible but not convincing, for our retreat. 
It was, I remember it well, received with sullen 
silence ; and when the command was given, 
" Forward, march ! " one of our spokesmen ex- 
claimed, " Say, rather, 'Backward, march ! ' ' 

We were quartered along the frontier, when I 
heard that my mother and sister were at H. ; 
and my heart longed to see them. I obtained 
furlough for a week, and hastened to H. I ar- 
rived the day before their departure ; and thence 
I hastened to L. to my father. 

I found him well, though visibly affected by 
my long absence. Thin and shadowy, his cor- 
poreal frame seemed to be kept alive only by his 
vigorous, clear, and kindly spirit ; for all the 
bitterness and rashness which sometimes used to 
overtake him was gone, and his heart seemed 
thoroughly filled with the consoling doctrine of 
his Eedeemer. It was evident, that, during the 



THE BATTLE OF LOUVAIN. Ill 

absence of the son of his hope, he had sought 
and found the abundant riches of the Son of 
God. Thus, from evil, Thou knowest how to 
draw the highest good : for the rough and rude 
soldier's life was to me an evil ; but to him the 
solitude was a blessing, wherein he sought and 
found the pearl of infinite price. 

And though Thou withdrewest from me, or 
rather I from Thee, and many years elapsed, 
wherein in blindness I knew Thee not, and in 
wickedness I often denied Thee, yet Thou hadst 
marked the appointed time wherein the son 
should come to Thee, as the father did before. 
Truly Thou art merciful, and our life is hidden, — 
hidden in Thee, the Fountain of all life ! 

The truce signed by the Prince of Orange was 
ratified by the king ; and a voice went up through 
the length and breadth of the country, " Let the 
thousand sons of our universities, the flower of 
our nation, the hope of so many parents, return 
from the army. If necessary, they will be ready 
for action; but, until then, let them return to 
the noble strife of mind and talent." 

The king decreed that all the students in the 
army should have an indefinite furlough. Great 
were the preparations made for the reception of 



112 THE BATTLE OF LOUVAIN. 

these youthful bands ; and I must confess, that 
when, myself in uniform, I went to meet my fel- 
low-students, the sight of the two hundred and 
fifty chasseurs of L., dusty and soiled and fatigued 
with the long march, and having passed a year 
in the privations and hardships of warfare, and 
recently gone through a severe ordeal of fire, — 
I must confess, that it moved me. 

They marched straight to the ancient St. Peter's 
Cathedral ; and, when arrived in the middle of 
the spacious nave, they halted, and with a thun- 
der-clap the muskets were brought down. There 
stood again the venerable Rector Magnificus with 
the Illustrious Senate ; and a touching address 
welcomed them home to the penates Palladis. 
It recalled to my mind the imposing scene of 
their departure. Thus this youthful band began 
and ended their career in the house of God. But 
then the scene was saddening, though sublime : 
now it was gladsome and cheering. A band of 
youthful maidens, arrayed in white, advanced; 
and one of them, in the name of all, presented to 
each soldier a medal, bearing the simple inscrip- 
tion, " Grateful testimonial of the maidens of L. 
to the faithful defenders of their country's rights." 
Pleasing is the remembrance ; and, though in my 



THE BATTLE OF LOUVAIN. 113 

wanderings I have lost many tokens of affection 
or honor, the bronze medal, handed by the Vir- 
gins of Minerva's City, is still in my possession. 

The remainder of the day was devoted to ban- 
queting and joyful intercourse; whilst in the 
evening the illuminated streets and dwellings 
testified to the joy of all the inhabitants. But, 
when the morning came, the uniform and mus- 
kets were carefully laid aside, and Minerva's sons 
resumed the quiet tenor of a life devoted to study 
and learning. 



114 TWO SISTERS. 



CHAPTER XII. 



TWO SISTERS. 



I took up my studies with renewed zeal, — all 
the lectures and lessons for the doctoral exami- 
nation in mathematical sciences and natural 
philosophy ; which being passed successfully, 
the candidate becomes a doctorandus, at any 
time entitled to gain the doctor's degree by the 
public defence of an approved dissertation, writ- 
ten in Latin, on an appropriate subject. These 
studies and lectures were many, and deeply inte- 
resting ; and, when my father was taken with a 
repeated attack (as he had often been), I joined 
to them the duties of editing his paper. But, 
after two or three months, I found it difficult to 
combine studying and editing ; and I requested 
him to resume the journal. I would not have 
done so years before ; and, even now, bitterly do 
I regret it. For he was old and feeble, and 
unfit for the task ; but I had become more selfish 
and less sacrificing. I remember it now with 



TWO SISTERS. 115 

sorrow ; and many things I do remember, which 
were the consequence of increased knowledge, 
self-importance, and independence. 

About that time, the chevalier returned from 
the headquarters of the army, where he had 
been actively engaged as private secretary to the 
Prince of the Netherlands. I went to see him, 
and plainly told him my disappointment at the 
result of our campaign. 

" My dear friend," said he with his usual 
smile, " I knew it before. The campaign, the 
French intervention, the subsequent agreement, 
the retreat, — I knew it before you heard the 
command of ' Forward ! ' and nothing more was 
intended than what was obtained." 

I remained silent. The thousands of lives 
lost; lives of brave militia-men, who had left 
their homes and families ; lives of promising 
sons, who had loyally left their peaceful avo- 
cations ; and the heaps of slain, as I passed 
them on the last day of battle ; and the 
groans of mothers and widows, — it all took 
shape and form in my youthful mind, naturally 
generous and compassionate. All that to re- 
establish the lost popularity of the king's heir ! 
And I understood the chevalier's smile, when I 



116 TWO SISTERS. 

spoke of leaving for the army, and his actual 
silence whilst turning the leaves of a " Plutarch" 
he was perusing ; and my dream of military 
honor and glory was gone, — gone for ever ! 

" Amice," said the chevalier, " you are of mili- 
tary family ; and, as I perceive, you have been 
honored by your commander. If you wish it, I 
have it in my power to procure you an officer's 
rank in the staff." 

" Chevalier," said I, " I thank you. I have 
done my duty, and wish to remain with my aged 
father. I thank you." 

And, when I had scarcely spoken these words, 
the Count George de C. was ushered in, himself 
once a soldier in the L. company, and now pro- 
moted to the stepping-stone to further honor. 

I took my hat, and went home to my dark 
back-room; where, pondering over my mathe- 
matics, I tried to forget my destroyed illusions. 
And I remember that my heart was soured, and 
that, for the first time, the reality of life com- 
menced to dawn. 

Then I began to be restless and dissatisfied, 
and sometimes harsh and unkind ; and, when 
my father was taken so ill as to make me fear 
his end was approaching, my sister came to 



TWO SISTERS. 117 

nurse him, and remained several days. Once I 
answered her in a thoughtless manner, and she 
broke out in tears ; and, dissatisfied with myself, 
I did not know what to amend, nor how. For I 
did not know thee, O God ! the fountain of true 
love and charity ; and all my learning and stu- 
dies did not teach me any thing, until it pleased 
thee to draw me by the affection of sweet and 
innocent children. Thus, reviewing my life, it 
now appears to me; though at that time it 
seemed mere accident and chance. 

Autumn came, and the leaves began to fall ; 
and the chilly cold increased my mental depres- 
sion. Seated before a table covered with mathe- 
matical papers, I was looking with listless apathy 
through the open window. There was nothing 
to cheer my eye, — a brick-paved courtyard, sur- 
rounded by a high wall, and three or four tall 
poplars at the end, with some gooseberry-bushes 
between ; and there came a little girl, slender, 
and with fair and waving locks. She moved 
up and down, with paper and pencil in her tiny 
hand, and seemed to make an attempt at sketch- 
ing ; and, perceiving that I observed her, she 
drew nearer and nearer, as children are apt 
to do. I loved her sweet and gentle manner, 



118 TWO SISTERS. 

and took her paper, and drew on it ; and she 
copied, leaning against the window-sill. I asked 
her who she was. She said, — 

" My name is Eleonore; and I have a sister 
named Adelaide, two years younger ; and we live 
with our mother in this house." 

I asked her to come into my study ; and, giv- 
ing her a seat and model and sheet of paper, 
requested her to try, and directed her small and 
flexible fingers, and observed her intelligent, 
beautiful profile. She had evidently a genial 
disposition ; and I promised to give her daily a 
lesson. When, the following day, she was 
gravely established at my writing-table, her 
younger sister made her appearance on some 
errand from her mother. If I had been struck 
by the transparent beauty of Eleonore, the fresh 
and modest face of Adelaide, with her large 
blue eyes incased in dark and silky lashes, 
seemed like the personification of childhood's 
holy innocence. In Eleonore, I could not but 
admire the transparency of refined intellect: in 
Adelaide, there was something more and deeper 
still. It was the transparency of an honest, 
truthful heart, with its hidden treasure of uncon- 
scious goodness and elastic cheerfulness. 



TWO SISTERS. 119 

Such were these children. I made the acquaint- 
ance of their mother. Married at an early age, 
Mrs. R. was left with two infant daughters, when 
her husband, a captain in the French Army, was 
ordered to Russia. He was reported among 
the slain ; and his young and beautiful widow 
mourned his loss during three years : for he was 
a brave and handsome soldier, and a devoted 
husband. Nothing could induce her to give her 
hand away ; and she continued to wear the ex- 
ternal apparel of mourning, even as she mourned 
for him in the loneliness of her desolate heart. 

One evening, toward dusk, she walked home, 
holding by each hand a little daughter. She 
slowly ascended the double flight of steps lead- 
ing to the front-door ; when, on the other side, 
an unknown person, with heavy beard, and 
wrapped in furs and cloak, ascended ; and both 
stood before the entrance. The mother, though 
herself startled at the sudden apparition, spoke 
quieting words to one of the frightened children. 
Then the unknown one, recognizing the well- 
beloved voice, and unable to contain his rapture, 
exclaimed, "Bertha!" and clasped his wife in 
his arms, and carried her fainting into the 
house. 



120 TWO SISTERS. 

It was himself indeed ! Made a prisoner by 
the Cossacks, he had been transported to the 
wilds of Siberia ; and, after many fruitless at- 
tempts, contrived to make his escape. After his 
return, and his re-union with his family, he 
served faithfully in the army of King William ; 
and was just promoted to the rank of commander 
of a battalion, when he was taken ill at Tournay ; 
and his iron frame, which had never known ill- 
ness, sank rapidly, leaving his widow with six 
children. Three of them were married; an 
only son was in military service ; and, at the out- 
break of the Belgian Eevolution, she was forced 
to flee with her two little daughters, one of ten 
and one of eight years, and took up her abode 
in L. 

I see her yet, in her dignified widowhood, 
gently moving, and directing her two little girls ; 
the only treasures left of a life passed in the 
blessedness of a happy marriage. And I see yet 
her pleasant smile and glistening eye, when, 
reverently standing before her, I spoke words of 
praise and admiration, and asked leave to be the 
instructor of little Eleonore ; and she consented, 
and had confidence in me ; for I was serious and 
well-meaning. 



TWO SISTERS. 121 

I had given private lessons for years and 
years, but never liked it. The business of 
teaching seemed uncongenial with my natural 
disposition; and even the professor's cathedra 
had not the slightest attraction for me. But 
when my intelligent Eleonore began to progress 
in drawing and German and history, and there 
was a true response of mind to mind, I became 
to her what my father had been to me. I gave 
her what I had and knew ; and she looked up to 
me with the same unbounded confidence where- 
with I used to look up to him. In my walks, 
she was my sweet companion; and her questions 
and answers awakened in me a sense of the 
teacher's office in its " abstract " beauty. The 
educational works of Campe and Saltzman and 
De Genlis, I studied now with the ardor of real 
enthusiasm. 

Thus a fresh impulse was given to my de- 
pressed spirit ; and, when spring approached, I 
tore up the brick pavement of the courtyard, 
and laid out a cheerful garden with shrubs and 
flowers, and a bower on the sunny side, where, 
resting in an easy arm-chair, my dear old father 
sometimes enjoyed the semblance of nature. 
And the sweet Adelaide, his favorite of the two, 



122 TWO SISTERS. 

used to stand near him ; and her innocent, merry 
talk found an ever-ready response in his cheerful, 
childlike fondness. 

Thus I passed 1832, studying, and, besides, 
performing literary labor. For, in that year, I 
translated the " Political Works " of Politz, and 
the "Letters from Paris" of Raumer ; and, 
when the academical year was at an end, I 
passed my doctoral examination; and, hence- 
forth free from lectures and colleges, I began to 
prepare my inaugural dissertation. 

But, in the spring of the following year, we 
moved from the city to one of the suburbs; 
where, with Mrs. E. and her two little daugh- 
ters, we leased a most delightful garden. And 
my father gave up his journal, and indulged the 
oftener his fondness for instructing Adelaide ; 
whilst I, in the midst of physical experiments, 
and heaps of books and papers, took more and 
more interest in the gradual development of 
Eleonore. 

A happier little household there could not be. 
It was to be the last year of my father's life ; 
and it seemed that God had sent the fragrant 
holiness of childhood to smooth his pillow, and 
to soften his feelings more and more. 



CONFLICT AND SEPARATION. 123 



CHAPTER XIII. 

CONFLICT AND SEPARATION. 

The remembrance of happy days is sweet and 
painful ; for the sweetness remains like a fra- 
grance. But then they come to an end ; and the 
end leaves a void, which even the sweetness of 
memory cannot fill. 

Day by day, I progressed in my dissertation ; 
day by day, I could rejoice in the happy develop- 
ment of my eldest pupil, Eleonore. Besides the 
educational works which I have mentioned, I 
began to study Pestalozzi ; and soon my youthful 
mind was in a blaze for the noble science of 
education. It was, at that time at least, sadly 
defective in the country which I inhabited. What 
I have said of the university did not apply to the 
primary and intermediate instruction. To train 
the mind as an immortal essence in its intellect- 
ual and moral capacity ; to observe the intimate 
bonds of union between body and soul, and to 



124 CONFLICT AND SEPARATION. 

develop the physical forces so as to steady the 
invisible structure ; and last, but not least, to 
educate with a view to eternity, and to make 
knowledge and science subservient to our rela- 
tion with God, — all these things were little 
thought of. All these things began to occupy 
me with unceasing energy ; and little did Eleo- 
nore and Adelaide know that they exerted such 
a decided influence on my destinies. 

Sweet and happy children ! They enjoyed the 
sunny summer ; and between their little studies, 
and the care for my aged father, and the dutiful 
observance of their excellent mother, and the 
many rambles we made together in the adjacent 
country, their affections twined around me with 
all the energy of love and innocence. 

When the summer was nearly past, the che- 
valier wished to see me. With more than usual 
seriousness, he told me that the Baron G. had 
applied to him for advice, how to provide for the 
further education of his two sons, whom, thus 
far, he had carefully trained himself. Living in 
the royal residence, constantly engaged as an 
inspector of the king's domains, he was unable 
to do more. He sought a person in whom he 
could place entire confidence, and to whom 



CONFLICT AND SEPARATION. 125 

he could intrust what himself, with more than 
usual care, had commenced. 

" I thought of you," continued the chevalier ; 
and, perceiving the frown wherewith his intima- 
tion was received, he hastened to add, " But I 
know your objections. I know your family pride 
and your ambition; but, what is better far, I 
know your love for your aged parent, and how 
hard it would be for you to leave him. But the 
family G. is powerful and influential ; and the 
baron wishes to see, in him who will undertake 
so responsible a charge, nothing less than the 
friend of his house. I do not mention the pecu- 
niary advantages : they are great, but have no 
weight with you, though they ought to have. 
But consider the social advantages, the relations 
you can form ; and let it be a stepping-stone to 
higher position." 

I could not assent to his opinion. My family 
had never owed any thing to favor or royal pro- 
tection. But what the chevalier said of the 
baron's care and anxiety, and of his amiable 
character, interested me ; and I consented to an 
interview. 

At a few miles' distance from L. lies the an- 
cient manor of E. There I was to meet the 



126 CONFLICT AND SEPARATION. 

baron. It was a bright day in fall, when I gave, 
with heavy heart, a kiss to my dear little girls, 
and, after a pleasant walk, entered the sombre 
avenue. A carriage met me near the entrance. 
The baroness, a noble, handsome lady, saw at a 
glance who it was ; and, smiling courteously, left 
an indelible impression on my youthful imagina- 
tion. I was ushered into the library ; and soon 
the baron entered, and, sitting down, opened the 
subject with all the earnestness of a devoted fa- 
ther, and all the exquisite politeness of an accom- 
plished courtier. 

Educated from his twelfth year among the 
pages of the great Napoleon, he had followed 
the destinies of the emperor, even through the 
terrible campaign of Russia, until the treaty of 
Fontainebleau ; when, yet very young, his career 
seemed broken. He married, against the wishes 
of his ambitious father, the Baroness de G., of 
ancient Frisian nobility, but destitute of fortune. 
He was cautious and prudent, but generous and 
kind - hearted ; charitable and reserved in his 
judgments ; extremely simple in his tastes ; and, 
I believe, the most perfect model of a husband 
and father I ever have encountered. 

He repeated, in substance, what the chevalier 



CONFLICT AND SEPARATION. 127 

had said, but with such amiable considerateness, 
with such earnest pleading for the welfare of his 
sons, that I confess that my objections seemed to 
crumble before his quiet eloquence ; and when 
the baroness came in, and added sparingly but 
timely words of esteem and appreciation, I arose, 
and expressed my willingness to receive further 
written communication. Long thereafter, the 
baroness jestingly complained, that, in this inter- 
view, I had neglected her, and exclusively given 
my attention to her husband. So true it is, that 
even woman may be deceived in the impression 
which she makes ; for, if I turned apparently 
my chief attention to the baron, it was because 
I instinctively felt the pressure of her influence 
upon my unsophisticated heart. 

And, when I walked down the avenue, I was 
sad. A feeling of heaviness oppressed me. 
The Moslem says, " What is to be, is." He calls 
it fate, or destiny; the Christian, providence. 
There is an irresistible power without ourselves. 
"We think we are free in acting : we are less so 
than we imagine. Invisible agencies must have a 
hand in shaping the course of our life ; for often 
we do what we decidedly would not, and often 
we are restrained from doing what we would. 



128 CONFLICT AND SEPARATION. 

Eleonore and Adelaide stood waiting at the 
garden-gate ; and, as soon as they saw me, they 
ran up to me, and clung to me, and their natural 
affection seemed to breathe another sphere than 
that which I just had left. When I came into 
my father's study, he smiled pleasingly, and asked 
the result of my interview. We were all silent ; 
and I perceived that my father's eyes were moist. 
Yet there was nothing decided ; and resting on 
my arm, and supported on the other side by 
sweet Adelaide, he joined us in the dining-room 
at our humble meal. 

And then, as always when things seem uncer- 
tain, I appreciated the more the present bless- 
ings. My conversations with my father were 
more frequent, my walks with the children were 
prolonged. My study seemed a very sanctuary, 
adorned by the constant presence of Eleonore 
and the occasional visits of Adelaide. 

At last came the long-dreaded letter from 
Baron G. I unfolded it with deep emotion, and 
read his honorable proposal to become the guide 
of his sons, and the most valuable friend of his 
family, under conditions the most liberal and 
generous, expressed in delicate and considerate 
terms. 



CONFLICT AND SEPARATION. 129 

It was a long and painful conflict, — a conflict 
with my native feelings, a conflict with my deep- 
rooted attachment to my father, a conflict with 
the new affections which had sprung up in my 
bosom; but, like all other conflicts, it had an 
end. I accepted ; and, on the 6th of December, 
I was to leave for H. 

And then I began to write a treatise on Edu- 
cation, wherein I brought together in systematic 
order all that I had read and studied on the 
subject, with my own observations, personal 
experience, and reflections. I verily tried to 
" magnify my office." I sent it to the baron, and 
received commending thanks, with the assurance, 
that, if the practice came up to the well-deli- 
neated theory, he should esteem himself the 
happiest of fathers. I had frequent conversa- 
tions with my aged parent ; and the project of 
once founding another "Hofweil," like that 
of Fellenberg at Berne, arose in my " ambitious " 
mind, — ambitious indeed, but yet ambitious in 
a good and noble cause. And for this I thank 
thee, O my God ! that thou didst direct the flame 
of that burning volcano, and didst preserve me 
from utter worldliness and vanity. 

My father at that time finished a treatise on 



130 CONFLICT AND SEPARATION. 

the Christian religion ; the third and concluding 
volume of a course of moral philosophy which 
he had begun when teaching my elder brother, 
and which he now completed as an humble dis- 
ciple of the Eedeemer. 

Thus we were engaged, mutually encouraging 
each other in the prospect of approaching sepa- 
ration ; whilst the dear angels, who made our 
home so bright, began to count the days when I 
should have to leave. 

At length came St. Nicholas Eve, the last I 
was to spend with them. The rain was pouring 
fast, and I was sad and gloomy. There they 
stood, the little things, with their hoods and 
cloaks, expecting Mr. Leno to take them to the 
illuminated stores. I went with them, but in 
silence ; and I bought whatever they desired. 
Yet I was not cheerful, as children like to be ; 
for my heart was weak, and wrapped up in 
grief. 

And, the following day, I left. It came harder 
to me than when I left for the army. Then 
there was the excitement of the time, and the 
possibility of speedy return. Now there was no 
excitement ; the separation would perhaps out- 
last my father's life ; and I left two sweet girls, 



CONFLICT AND SEPARATION. 131 

of whom the older was, since two years, my 
pupil and constant companion, and the younger 
drew me with all the force of unsupported inno- 
cence. 



132 THE WORLD WIDE OPEN. 



CHAPTER XIV. 



THE WORLD WIDE OPEN. 



The reception which I received, when late in 
the evening I arrived at the baron's dwelling, 
was such as the most fastidious taste could desire. 
With courtly politeness, the two parents were 
waiting for me ; and, with all the ease of perfect 
breeding, there was a tinge of emotion visible, 
even on the polished surface, when each took one 
of my hands, and in simple but expressive words 
testified their inmost satisfaction. Then came 
the presentation of their sons, — the one, a boy 
of ten, stout and large, but with unprepossessing 
appearance ; the other, a noble-looking child of 
eight, the image of his mother. And whilst I 
held them by the hand, and tried to read their 
mind, and spoke words of affection, the image 
of Eleonore and Adelaide forced itself upon me, 
and their loneliness and their extreme loveliness 
awakened my regret ; and, sitting down, I tried 
to hide my emotion. 



THE WORLD WIDE OPEN. 133 

But it would not do ; and, taking courage from 
the honesty of my feelings, I at once explained 
the cause. And, when I proceeded in my narra- 
tive, the baron's eye was moist, for he had a 
generous and sympathizing heart ; but the high, 
arched eyebrows of the baroness did not relax 
in their stern and proud expression. For, until 
the Spirit of God had touched her heart, self 
was her idol: not in a narrow sense, however; 
for she was noble, and capable of deep affection, 
and she loved her sons with extreme maternal 
fondness ; but all her affections were centred in 
her husband, her children, and a younger sister, 
the beautiful Baroness d'O. 

The following day, having surveyed my new 
domain, I found every thing arranged with taste 
and foresight. There was my own apartment 
and that of my two pupils, and a magnificent 
study with library, and a cheerful view on a 
pretty garden ; and when we met at the break- 
fast-table, served in real English style, simple 
but cheerful, and as it were, breathing a perfume 
of refined taste over the coming day, we dis- 
coursed pleasingly on the task which I had come 
to fulfil. Then the baron gave me, in the study, 
a precise account of the foundation he had laid. 



134 THE WORLD WIDE OPEN. 

On examining the children, I found that Fenelon 
himself could not have wished a better structure 
to build upon. I laid out a plan of studies for 
the year to come ; and thus the time was passed 
until we heard the summons of the dinner-bell. 

My arrival had created a sensation among the 
numerous relatives and friends of the baron. 
But never shall I forget the considerate polite- 
ness wherewith he introduced me successively 
to all. That day, the beautiful Baroness Louise 
d'O. was at the family table. Married when 
very young to the ambassador of Sweden, a 
plain-looking but noble and generous man and 
devoted husband, she was as fascinating by the 
loveliness of her disposition and the refined 
culture of her well-informed mind as by the clas- 
sical beauty of her features and the graceful 
sweetness of her manners. And, when she be- 
came my pupil in German, I must confess that 
the hours spent with her were equally delight- 
ful and profitable; for, with her unerring tact 
and delicate spirit of observation, she gave me 
many useful hints as to the ways of the world. 
Herself not blessed with children, she took the 
deepest interest in the education of her nephews. 

And to them I now devoted myself with unre- 



THE WORLD WIDE OPEN. 135 

relenting assiduity. No maps that I could find 
were good enough for them : I constructed them 
others according to my views. No historical 
tables could be found to suit my taste : I made 
them myself. And, when the daily task was per- 
formed, I sat down, and wrote in a diary the 
most minute details : their recitations, their read- 
ings, their relaxation, their occasional remarks, 
my own reflections on their disposition and cha- 
racter, suggestions, &c, all found its place in 
those pages, successively written for the daily 
inspection of the parents. I did so during many 
years ; and each morning the mother read it with 
her sons, and praised or corrected as there was 
occasion or need. Thus the education of these 
boys became the main point of my thoughts; 
and when, in after-time, I saw them advance 
and grow in extensive knowledge, and far excel 
their occasional companions, the parents honor- 
ing me as their greatest benefactor, I seemed to 
lose my personality in theirs : they were indeed 
the work of my hands ; they had become the 
embodiment of my deepest thought and care. 

But to return to the beginnings of this career, 
if career it may be called. With all this labor 
and zeal for my new pupils, I could not conquer 



136 THE WORLD WIDE OPEN. 

my affectionate regret for those never-to-be-for- 
gotten sweet children, who had unknowingly 
been the cause of the new direction my life had 
taken. Nor could I forget the privation of my 
father, who used to call me his " joy and conso- 
lation," and " the light of his eyes." And, when 
Christmas came, I staid two days with them. 
Well do I remember the joy of those children, 
when at night I arrived, and the life which Mr. 
Leno seemed to have brought again into the lit- 
tle household. Then Eleonore showed me her 
work so carefully performed in my absence, and 
Adelaide seemed with renewed zeal to study 
with her aged protector; and himself I found 
cheerful, yet missing me in daily intercourse. 

But I returned to my post ; and the letters of 
Eleonore were many, and many were the answers. 
And once she came to see me, and enjoyed one 
evening in my study. The baroness entered, and 
addressed her with graceful kindness : but she 
was cold, and the child felt it; and two years 
thereafter the baroness confessed her selfish error, 
for then the dew of a more heavenly charity had 
begun to soften her otherwise noble heart. 

And now I began to think of providing in H. 
a dwelling for my father and Mrs. R. with her 



THE WORLD WIDE OPEN. 137 

dear children. It served to occupy our minds 
with the prospect at least of sweet re-union; 
though it would have been incomplete, and per- 
haps a hinderance in my task. But, whilst we 
were seeking and corresponding, I received the 
tidings that my father was very ill. 

Bravely he struggled during nine wearisome 
years against infirmity and straitened circum- 
stances. On my last anniversary, he sent me 
" Droz on Moral Philosophy," with touching 
and precious inscription : " To my only and ten- 
derly beloved son. I invoke on him the blessing 
of the Most High. May his Spirit guide him 
mercifully through this pilgrimage to the goal of 
Jesus Christ, blessed by his fellow-pilgrims for 
the tears which he will have dried and the suf- 
ferings he will have relieved ; desired by his 
friends, and as such, first of all, by his father, 
who, by Divine Mercy, hopes to go before him 
into the abode of Grace." 

I hastened to L. It was Ascension Day, in the 

sweet month of May, when I arrived, and found 

him weaker than usual. The gleam of joy 

wherewith he welcomed me in silence, — for he - 

could scarcely speak, — I shall never forget. " I 

thank you," came out in stammering words. 

10 



138 THE WORLD WIDE OPEN. 

" My dissolution is near," followed long after. 
The Easter Day before, he had, for the last time, 
partaken of the Holy Communion : an exertion 
almost incredible ; for he was lame on one side, 
and the distance was great. And that night, 
when we had brought him to bed, he slept lit- 
tle ; but in the morning he said, " Do you hear 
that music \ " And, when I observed there had 
been none, he said, " Music of angels, — of 
angels ! " 

We saw that his days were numbered; and 
the faithful physician, who during nine years 
attended him, said so : for his lungs were para- 
lyzed, and life was ebbing slowly away. And 
on the last evening, when, kneeling down, I tried 
to catch the slightest sound, he said in the low- 
est whisper, and at long intervals, " You have 
been a faithful son to me, — faithful to the last. 
God bless you, bless you, my hope and consola- 
tion ! " And then he spoke no more, and re- 
mained quiet, breathing slower and slower. It 
It was not until on the following day that he 
breathed his last, surrounded by Mrs. R., who 
seemed to lose a father; and by those weeping 
children, who loved him so tenderly ; and by his 
faithful servant, who never left him for seven 



THE WORLD WIDE OPEN. 139 

years. I closed his eyes'reverently ; and, leaving 
the room, went into the garden to give way to 
my deepest grief. 

For now I remembered all from the begin- 
ning, — his care and love, his sufferings, his long 
illness, and patience. And I remembered no 
more the good I had done, but my deficiencies ; 
and although he departed with blessing, yet, oh ! 
what would I have given to receive one blessing 
more ! And, whilst I was walking up and down 
the garden, Professor T. came to mourn with 
me ; and, shortly after, the chevalier added words 
of friendly consolation. 

And Professor T., who never had approved of 
my educational career, whilst praising my devot- 
edness to my father, said, " That now the world 
was wide open before me." These words, though 
at that time unheeded, yet afterwards returned 
with force to my remembrance, and caused me 
not a little disturbance ; for, though enthusiastic 
in my present occupation, I could not deny that 
I risked the sacrifice of the future prospects of 
my own ambition. 

On the fourth day thereafter, on the twelfth 
anniversary of my dear Eleonore, I buried my 
father; and, having given two or three days 



140 THE WORLD WIDE OPEN. 

more to regret him with my sweetest girls, — 
now, it seemed to me, twice orphans, — I left 
the sad and mourning little family, to resume 
my task at H. 

I was gloomy and depressed ; and though I 
conscientiously worked, yet there was a secret 
uneasiness, and desire for change. And when 
I heard that Gen. de E. had been appointed 
Governor-general of Netherlands' India, and 
would sail in a few months, I went to see him. 
He was my cousin by my mother's side, and had 
always shown us regard. " I can do all for you," 
said he, " when you are there, but nothing be- 
fore." I then began to think of taking my 
doctor's degree, not only in philosophy, but also 
in jurisprudence ; and added to my educational 
labors the finishing strokes to my academical 
dissertation, together with the necessary prepa- 
ration for examinations in law. 

And in midsummer I made a journey to L — n 
to see my mother and sister. On my return, I 
stopped at L., and passed a few days with Mrs. 
R. and the dear children. Those days I remem- 
ber like yesterday. But what follows is strangely 
obscure. Mrs. R. left L. ; and, during six years, 
I never saw her nor Eleonore and Adelaide. 



THE WORLD WIDE OPEN. 141 

Now and then, a letter from Eleonore showed 
signs of life. In loneliness, the noble mother 
devoted her days to her daughters, whom she 
trained with care and Christian faithfulness. 
How I could lose sight of her ; how I could, as 
it were, forget the sweet companions of my 
father's last solitude, — I do not know, I cannot 
conceive. It must be that the world began to 
grasp me, and that I became more selfish. I 
do not know. But one thing I know : I some- 
times felt a pang, and afterwards a secret re- 
proach, as if I had neglected a sacred duty, and 
even slighted the memory of him who loved 
them so well. 



142 LADY MARIE. 



CHAPTER XV. 



LADY MARIE. 



The last time I saw those sweet children, I have 
a faint recollection that they were sick, very sick ; 
and I came down to see and comfort them ; but 
could not return, being taken ill myself. Long 
and tedious was my illness, and the fever would 
not leave me. And, during that time, the baro- 
ness, whom I shall henceforth call Lady Marie, 
— a name more endeared to me, — was my only 
nurse. She took care of the prescriptions and 
the room, and all the minute detail which make 
a sick man's safety when he is ill, and his com- 
fort when convalescent. Her noble and devoted 
nature gave proof of real affection for the friend 
of her sons. It made a deep impression upon 
me, and bound my heart to her with more than 
ordinary admiration. 

And when, at last, the disease began to yield, 
and, weary and tired, I had to wait for return- 
ing strength, I commenced reading the works of 



LADY MARIE. 143 

Goethe, that prince of poets and practical phi- 
losophers. I remember the succession wherein 
I read, and the impression made by his several 
works. It was not a happy one : it tore away 
the feeble remainder of positive belief, and made 
me restless. And I read the Autobiography of 
Benvenuto Cellini, the celebrated sculptor, and, 
lying on my couch, began to translate it, nor 
ceased before I had finished it for publication ; 
then the Memoirs of Lord Byron, and the dra- 
mas of Alfieri, and the works of Balzac, and 
those of the romantic school of France ; and my 
mind, relieved of serious studies, began to wan- 
der in the fields of fiction and poetry and false 
philosophy. 

Those were dreamy days, wherein I formed 
many fantastic plans of life ; for now the world 
was wide open before me. I was free indeed ; 
nothing to bind me, — nothing, O short-sighted 
young man! but the invisible web of circum- 
stances ; nothing but " what is to be, is ! " Soon 
I was again at work with my pupils. Contrary 
to my better judgment, and contrary to the me- 
thod which I afterwards invariably followed, I 
began with Latin instead of Greek ; and I was 
often interrupted in my lessons by a visit from 



144 LADY MARIE. 

Lady Marie, who never failed to bring me into 
acquaintance with her numerous friends. 

Once she introduced me to a lady sweet and 
unassuming, yet with all the refinement and tact 
of high position. And, when she spoke the 
German tongue with musical cadence and har- 
monious fulness, I remember I was entranced ; 
and, though perfectly at home in German, it 
seemed I had never heard the like before. It 
was the lovely Countess de Rossi, who, before 
she became the wife of the Sardinian ambassa- 
dor, was simply Henriette Sontag, the glory of 
theatre and opera. She was the embodiment 
of womanly virtue and dignity. She unreservedly 
spoke of her first career, but bore her rank and 
title with perfect ease and gracefulness. I saw 
her often ; but that morning's conversation left 
an impression of sweet respect. How little did 
I think, when listening to the fascinating sound 
of her kind and pleasing words, that, twenty 
years thereafter, I should be on the Pacific coast, 
and read in public print the solitary demise of 
Henriette Sontag, once more the prima donna^ 
who died of cholera in one of the South- Ameri- 
can cities, and found a lonely burial-place in 
Cuba's populous capital! 



LADY MARIE. 145 

Restless and full of youthful activity, my mind 
overstrained by reading and study and thought, I 
had nothing to work upon but my two pupils. 
It was impossible for one constituted as I was to 
be contented ; and I sought in vain a soothing 
medicine in the pages of ancient philosophy. 
Lady Marie, with woman's unerring tact, per- 
ceived my disease (for such it was), and, measuring 
its extent, sought to apply the only remedy she 
knew. During a few days' absence at L., I had 
written her a letter, wherein, with morbid sensi- 
tiveness, I complained of having found in her 
neither a mother nor a sister. On my return, she 
summoned me to her boudoir ; and when I stood 
before her like a culprit, conscious of having 
committed a folly, she made me sit down ; and, 
leaning back in her arm-chair, she said in a tone 
of playful earnestness, — - 

" My dear Mr. Leno, you must confess I am 
too young to be your mother ; but I shall always 
be to you a sister, and even more than that, — 
a true and sincere friend" 

Thus saying, she held out her hand, which I 
reverently touched with my lips ; for she came 
nearest to my beau ideal of a woman's dignified 
goodness. 



146 LADY MARIE. 

" And now," continued she, " let me use my 
rights, — the rights of clear-sighted, unprejudiced 
friendship. You must go out ; you must visit ; 
you must no more retire so often from our draw- 
ing-rooms ; you must not read so much, nor 
worry yourself about my sons. To live for the 
world, we must live with it; and, to live with 
the world, we must live in it." 

And forthwith she drew out a list of visits to 
be paid, and engaged me to take dinner there 
and there at such and such a day ; and made 
me promise that at least twice a week I should 
visit the opera. 

I followed her directions ; and I remember how 
by degrees the channel of my thoughts was 
changed. I had occasion to observe the " fashion- 
able " world in its fairest aspect. It was the 
circle of the court ; it was the combination of 
beauty with polished education and refined taste. 
There was no occasional excitement: it was all 
natural, or rather second-nature. The conver- 
sations were light and trifling, it must be said : 
but now and then a serious thought was gladly 
taken up and followed; and, when a genial 
spirit appeared, he was welcomed, and found a 
willing audience. Literature was discussed, 



LADY MARIE. 147 

and art and science ; yea, even philosophy. 
Tact and discretion, it is true, forbade to " ex- 
haust" the subject; but this prevented weari- 
some repetition, and gave every one occasion to 
contribute his mite to the general entertain- 
ment. 

Court and high life have been disparaged; 
but I must confess, that I have nowhere found 
the same observance of courteousness, the same 
uniform desire to please, the same delicacy 
of observation, and, in many instances, the 
same degree of generosity and sincere homage 
to genius and talent. And, although a cer- 
tain amount of levity seemed to pervade the 
whole, I have known persons, truly devout, 
who were scrupulous observers of courtly eti- 
quette. 

As for the theatre, its influences have always 
seemed to me more on the wrong than on the 
right side. The unavoidable excitement ; the 
passionate nature of the drama ; the preferences, 
more or less enthusiastic, for actors and actresses ; 
the fascinating array of beauty in the richly deco- 
rated boxes, — all this seems to create a world 
wherein imagination has more extensive play 
than is safe for sober morality. And what might 



148 LADY MARIE. 

be admired as a work of art, in harmonious 
performance, entrancing music and tasteful deco- 
rations, is absorbed, as it were, by the thrilling 
emotions caused by the tout ensemble. 

Thus I passed the winter from 1834 to 1835 : 
and, when spring came, it was my turn to con- 
sole and encourage Lady Marie ; for her sweet 
sister, the Baroness d'O., followed her husband 
to Berlin, where he had been appointed Swedish 
ambassador. It was a grievous loss, and Lady 
Marie was sorely tried. Her visits in our study 
were more frequent ; and often she would sit 
down with her work of tapestry, and listen with 
satisfaction to the recitations of her noble boys. 
Not all the turmoil of the winter season had 
diminished the enthusiastic ardor wherewith I 
pursued their studies. I had, as with Eleonore, 
found the right material ; and, thus far, the work- 
manship justified the workman. 

But, in the month of May, I was again laid 
up with fever ; and Lady Marie was again at my 
bedside, with indefatigable perseverance minister- 
ing to my wants. The family was preparing to 
leave for the country ; and I was weak and suf- 
fering, when I was wrapped up, and placed in 
the carriage ; and, Lady Marie taking her seat 



LADY MARIE. 149 

at my side, we arrived in the middle of a warm 
summer day at Rivulet Mansion, the place of 
our destination. 

It was a lovely spot, — a spacious manor, shel- 
tered from the cold sea-winds by a range of pic- 
turesque hills ; the grounds laid out in antique 
style, with large and massive avenues and noble 
parks; at six miles' distance from the capital, 
where the baron's duties called him often; and, 
a few miles from L., it had an easy access to the 
ancient city of learning and to the modern cen- 
tre of the hean-monde. There scarcely passed a 
day without some equipages driving up, and the 
hospitable reception-rooms were often filled. I 
made there many an agreeable acquaintance ; for, 
in the country, even the etiquette of court gives 
way to more familiar intercourse, and the beauty 
of Nature suggests an inexhaustible source of 
conversation. 

Whoever has read the first chapter of these 
sketches may remember, that I had from early 
childhood, and with very good reason, an aver- 
sion bordering on positive hatred to any thing 
Prussian. Now, it happened that one of the 
guests of the day was the minister of Prussia, 
with his wife ; and Lady Marie, who, I believe, 



150 LADY MARIE. 

knew my feelings, with characteristic decision 
introduced me at once. 

With the Prussian aristocracy, family pride is 
proverbial. The noble count, after the first words 
of introduction, perceiving my hesitating reserve, 
increased by the flush of lingering fever, reached 
me his hand, and said with winning smile, " The 
Austrian double eagle, sir, can afford to be gene- 
rous, and to forget the mistakes of the Prussian 
single bird." I took his hand, and pressed it. It 
was impossible to say more in fewer words ; im- 
possible to meet the case with more vigor ; 
impossible to acknowledge in nobler terms the 
last descendant of a princely line. From that 
moment, the field was clear ; there was no re- 
serve ; and our intercourse during the remainder 
of the day was pleasant and cheerful. Thus the 
strongest prejudice may be conquered by real 
courtesy. 

As soon as I had recovered my strength, I 
finished my academical dissertation, containing 
numerous experiments on a then newly disco- 
vered phenomenon, called Midosmose and JExos- 
mose ; and, after its approval by the Faculty, I 
had it printed. On the tenth day of June, I de- 
fended it, and received my diploma as Master of 



LADY MARIE. 151 

Mathematics, and Doctor of Natural Philosophy. 
In these diplomas there is a threefold grade, 
according to the merits of the defence, — either 
simply, or with praise, or with great praise. I 
succeeded in obtaining the highest honors. 

But now the thought of " making a career " 
began again to occupy me with renewed force. 
I was deeply interested in the education of my 
two pupils ; and a third brother, a lovely boy of 
six, began to claim my attention. I could not 
help myself, and took him in my study. I taught 
him to write and draw, and German and history. 
To teach him was no labor, but indeed a relaxa- 
tion of the mind. With that he had a disposition 
so loving and thoughtful, an ingenuity so perse- 
vering, that, day by day, I felt the bond of attrac- 
tion stronger. And, of his brothers, the younger 
one was all I could desire. It was impossible, with 
parents so refined and appreciating, not to feel, 
that, a year later, a separation would be almost 
impossible. 

And then the saying returned to my young 
and enterprising spirit, " The world is wide open 
before you;" and it seemed I had to make a 
choice between those boys and the wide field of 
the world. 



152 LADY MARIE. 

Whilst my pupils made a fortnight's excursion 
with their father, I travelled to L — n to see my 
mother and sister ; and there we deliberated on 
my various plans, and I finally came to the con- 
clusion to seek my fortune in the East-India 
colonies. 

Thence I wrote a letter to the baron, apprising 
him of my wish of being released from my en- 
gagement. Frankly I stated my reasons, in my 
opinion, such as he must approve himself. I 
knew too well the grief it would cause him ; 
I knew the sorrow of Lady Marie ; I knew the 
regret of the children. But I thought I was 
right ; and, with the feeling of having recovered 
my liberty, I journeyed home, yet not without 
forebodings of the coming struggle. 



WHAT IS TO BE, IS. 153 



CHAPTER XVI. 

WHAT IS TO BE, IS. 

It was late in the evening when I rode up the 
long and dark avenue to Rivulet Mansion. I 
could see the light from far as it was burning in 
the large drawing-room, where I was sure to 
meet the baron and Lady Marie. 

I found it even worse than I had anticipated. 
The baron's emotion was deep ; and, though ac- 
customed to show a remarkable equanimity, I 
saw but too well that his inmost soul was 
grieved. 

" Many," said he, " have been my disappoint- 
ments in life, many the sorrows which I have 
suffered from my own father's injustice. All my 
joy and future expectation are concentrated in 
my sons. In you we had an able, faithful guar- 
dian of their youth. How shall we replace you ? 
How shall we repair the harm done by change 
in method, and, above all, in moral training? 
Far better would it have been for us, for them, 

11 



154 WHAT IS TO BE, IS. 

never to have known you, than, knowing you 
once, to lose you ! " 

" I never thought, Mr. Leno," said Lady Ma- 
rie, "that you would have come to this. In 
the midst of a life of external comfort, you 
know we have our griefs and cares ; but, if 
for any thing I blessed God, it was for your 
presence among us. Oh ! how can you seek for 
a better sphere of usefulness than here, where 
you can bestow so much good, and where you 
are, you must confess it, so thoroughly appre- 
ciated r 

If any thing can move me, it is a mother's 
love for her sons, her tender care for their well- 
being; but when that mother is a noble lady, 
with all the gifts of fortune and beauty, and 
when her soul is shaken with apprehension, and 
all the happiness of her life seems to hang upon 
a decision, I must confess, it needs all my love 
of liberty, all my desire to restore the fallen for- 
tunes of my house, to resist the strong appeals of 
her maternal affection. 

I did resist, and remained firm in my resolu- 
tion to leave about the time of Christmas. In 
the mean while, the children should remain igno- 
rant of the impending separation ; and I would 



WHAT IS TO BE, 1$. 155 

do all I could to instruct my successor, as soon 
as found, in the plan of education I had laid out 
and followed thus far. 

The oldest of my pupils was now twelve years 
of age. With wayward disposition, he needed 
tact and love to bring out the good that was in 
him, and to correct the evil, which seemed to 
strive for the mastery. 

His brother Charles was ten years old, and, as 
I said before, the image of his mother. Warm 
of heart and clear of head, he was to me perfec- 
tio?i. He clung to me with all the fervor of 
appreciating instinct. Never loved I a boy so 
well. And his mother knew his excellence; 
and, though firm and severe, she knew the bond 
of sympathy between him and me, and trembled 
for the time when he should lose me. 

The youngest, Alfred, was a fair and lovely 
child of seven, as amiable and intelligent as fancy 
could wish him. 

Such were these children whom I had 
moulded and instructed, and, above all, loved, 
since nearly two years. Yet I loved them not 
for thy sake, O Fountain of love ! but only be- 
cause they happened to please me. For, since 
four years, I had more and more forgotten thee ; 



156 WHAT IS TO BE, IS. 

and when, in the absence of the faithful mother, 
I had to read them thy Word, I did it unwillingly 
and as a task. And when the mother, perceiving 
my unbelieving tendency, asked me many an 
evening to read her some eloquent pages of thy 
faithful servants, I did it with reluctance, and 
thought it tedious and unprofitable. 

And I remember that I was restless as one 
who seeks a thing, and does not know what he 
seeks. What brought me to this state, I do not 
know. But the night I remember, when, lying 
down to sleep, I could not sleep; and, tossing 
on my bed, I suffered a mental agony of which 
I try in vain to recall any detail. How long it 
lasted, I do not know; but the clock struck 
three, when I exclaimed in these very words, 
" Oh that there were one between God and me ! 
Oh that he could pray ! " 

And, when I try to remember how it was, it 
seems to me there came a voice, not to my ear, 
but to my very soul, " That is Jesus Christ, the 
Mediator!" Thus it seems to me I heard it; 
and I know I sprang up, and, falling on my 
knees, burst out in tears. 

And what I prayed, or how long, I do not 
know. One thing I do know, — that, since that 



WHAT IS TO BE, IS. 157 

night, there was a daybreak in my soul, which 
since was often overclouded, but never ceased to 
increase in light. 

Whether this was to be called conversion, or 
regeneration, or new birth, I do not care. 
Twenty-five years have rolled by, and brought 
their joys and sorrows, their changes of opinion, 
of tenets, and of views ; but my soul, when 
wearied with perplexities and the fallacy of hu- 
man devices, darts, like a bird to its nest, to the 
night when the Fountain of love was opened to 
me. Yea, it even now turns to that night as 
to a pledge of faithfulness. What then was 
done, it seems as if it never could be undone. 
It seems to me like the hand of God interfering 
in the midst of my career, not to change it, but 
to give a new and better direction to my 
thoughts. 

And I took my father's Bible, and began to 
read regularly every day the New Testament. 
It seemed a new book. Had I not read it from 
my childhood ? Had I not studied it when pre- 
paring for confirmation ? Yet I remember it 
seemed all new to me ; and, when I read the Old 
Testament, strangely new seemed all the prophe- 
cies and types. 



158 WHAT IS TO BE, IS. 

Thus I read and studied, and took counsel 
with no one ; and I began to love the children 
with another love, and to feel more anxious for 
the eldest. When the mother perceived the 
change in my feelings, she was amazed ; for 
she used to come frequently to my study, and to 
talk freely on many subjects : but, when she saw 
my ardor, she one evening said, with a mixture of 
jest and meaning, — 

" Indeed, Mr. Leno, I foresee that you will 
lose your senses." 

Then I remember saying, with strong persua- 
sion, — 

" Lady Marie, within three months, you will 
think as I do now." 

And so it was; for my convictions, burning 
with the ardor of " first love," awakened in her 
a new sense. Formal religion had left her cold, 
and unaware of her shortcomings. 

" I bless God," thus wrote she once, " for 
having given me in you a friend who shows my 
soul a better course than that which thus far I 
have followed. I feel that religion, religion 
alone, can renovate the human heart." 

And, with this new bond of union, our inter- 
course became more intimate, our conversations 



WHAT IS TO BE, IS. 159 

more useful, our interest in the children more 
deep and real, and my influence in the whole 
family stronger and stronger, the more the time 
approached for our separation. 

The brother of the baron, now a minister of 
state, a man of distinguished talents and solid 
academical education, took a deep interest, in his 
nephews. He could fully appreciate the plan 
thus far pursued. One night, he entered my 
study, and left me a paper, which he requested 
me to peruse with attention. 

It was a letter, containing, in most forcible lan- 
guage, the reasons why I should give up my 
project. He urged me to finish at least the 
education of the two oldest sons. He urged 
the excellency q>f the younger one. He certainly 
made out what might be called a strong case, but 
failed to convince me. 

And from Berlin the Baroness Louise d'O. 
wrote to me, — 

" You are too much attached to them, not 
deeply to feel the involuntary grief you cause 
them. Had I been there, I would have tried to 
speak; but what to do at a distance? ... I 
knowthissubjectmust.be painful to you, and, 
by continual repetition, almost hateful ; yet you 



160 WHAT IS TO BE, IS. 

could not hate me. Sometimes I hope that time, 
reflection, difficulties, but, more than that, the 
regrets of those parent friends and of that docile 
child, and the intimate affection wherewith you 
love them, may have shaken your resolution. 
I would be too rejoiced, too much so, to hope it 
reasonably ; but we are not always reasona- 
ble." 

What kept me up against so many influences, 
I do not know. It is true, / worked hard. Be- 
sides my constant labors with my pupils, I 
devoted, with all the ardor of a new convert 
(if thus I might call myself), much time to Bible 
study, and prepared my two examinations, — one 
as candidate in law, and the other as candidate 
in theoretical philosophy and literature ; and, in 
the beginning of December, I passed them both 
satisfactorily. 

At last, the gentleman who had to continue 
my task was introduced. He was a Swiss licen- 
tiate, unprepossessing in appearance, and of 
moderate attainments. He assumed with me a 
familiarity to which I was not accustomed. I 
took pains, however, to explain to him the me- 
thod pursued, and gave my advice how best to 
proceed. He declared bluntly, that he did not 



WHAT IS TO BE, IS. 161 

intend to trouble himself so much. I shall 
never forget that afternoon. Every thing relat- 
ing to my pupils was almost sacred to me. To 
see it slighted, I could not bear. But when I 
saw my boys, perceiving what was going on, per- 
plexed and sorrowful ; when I saw Charles, with 
flushed cheeks, taking hold of my hands,, and, 
with trembling voice, asking what it was, — I 
suffered an anguish which I cannot describe. 
But this was nothing when compared with Lady 
Marie's appearance. I cannot even now think 
of it without pain. Day by day, they all became 
more endeared to me. Day by day, it seemed 
that I had to be there, and nowhere else. And 
thus Christmas Eve approached ; when, for the 
last time, we sat together around the large fire- 
place in the drawing-room. But, when the car- 
riage drove up, the boys encircled me with tears ; 
yea, even the elder one felt he lost a friend: 
and, with promises of mutual letters, I contrived 
to hide my deep emotion in the carriage, which 
took me once more to the Alma Mater. 



162 IN THE MARKET. 



CHAPTER XVII. 



IN THE MARKET. 



It was nearly midnight when I reached my lodg- 
ings in L. Twelve years before, I arrived there, 
a growing youth, ready to enter the lists as a 
student. Now my father was no more, my mo- 
ther and sister far off, Eleonore and Adelaide I 
had lost ; and the relation binding me to a family 
which I had begun to consider as my own, I had 
broken, after months of painful struggle. 

I sat down, I must confess, with a heavy heart. 
My presence in L. recalled blessed and sorrow- 
ful memories ; and, when I heard a passing com- 
pany of students singing their merry u Io vivat ! " 
I felt that the years of a student's life were gone, 
and that the realities of active life had arrived, 
waiting for exertion and courage. 

I laid out a plan of occupation so as to be 
busy from morning until night, and to forget, if 
possible, the strong affections of my heart. The 
early morning was given to religious reading and 



IN THE MARKET. 163 

writing ; for I had soon gathered some theolo- 
gical books, and, first of all, began to study 
Hebrew. Whatsoever the sudden revulsion in 
the life-stream of my thoughts might be called, I 
seemed to have awaked. What the rising sun 
does in the early morning, — that first glimmer- 
ing, that first illumination of the mountain-tops, 
that gentle increase of light on plain and valley, 
— all that, I remember it now, took place lite- 
rally in my thus far benighted soul. I was 
hungry after spiritual food, and thirsty after what 
is rightly called the " waters of life ; " and, of 
all the books of Scripture, I have yet a lively 
remembrance of the deep impression made upon 
me when studying the first chapter of St. John's 
Gospel and the forty-second chapter of Isaiah. 

The remainder of the morning was devoted to 
my studies in law, and the preparation of my 
academical essay ; whilst, in the evening, I kept 
my correspondence, and now and then, but sel- 
dom, saw a friend. 

But, notwithstanding my incessant labor, I 
could not escape the constantly recurring remem- 
brance of my pupils. Within a week after my 
departure, I received from their noble mother the 
following lines : — 



164 IN THE MARKET. 

" I must write you a few words, to thank you, 
from the depth of my soul, for the lively and 
deep-felt interest which you never ceased to 
show my sons, even during the last moments you 
were with them. Charles gave me your parting 
letter. We read it often and often, and not 
without deep emotion. The advice you give this 
well-deserving child, will, I hope, also be followed 
by his mother, whose heart is more than broken. 
Adolphe gave me his letter only last night; 
when, sleepless like his mother, he called for me, 
and, with repentance for past errors, asked me 
to pray with him. Do not forget your promise to 
pray daily for them. Could you have heard 
Charles's prayer at his awaking this morning, it 
would have touched you. Adieu ! I remain 
your sincere pupil and friend, . . . Marie/' 

And, a few days later, I received word that 
Charles was very ill, and wished ardently to see 
me. 

I found him on his bed, with burning fever, 
my letter in his hand. 

" My dear sir, my dear sir," said he, " I am so 
glad to see you ! " 

I remained with him a day, and tried to soothe 
his feelings ; and promised to come and see them 



IN THE MARKET. 165 

often, as often as I could. To be sure, I bought 
my liberty at a great price ; for I saw that the 
boy's heart was sorely afflicted. 

And whilst I was thus studying, and learning 
to pray, and seek counsel at the Source of wis- 
dom, there came to me a letter from the Baro- 
ness Louise d'O., so touching and so true, that I 
wish to embody part of it in these memoirs, 
though I can scarcely render the impressive, 
noble language of the original : — 

" And so, in this resolution, unhappily taken, 
painfully followed, cruelly achieved, — in this 
resolution, I say, it was written that none of the 
parties should not suffer ; for you, too, — you suf- 
fer for having left, not a house of strangers, not 
individuals moderately affectionate, but a house 
which begged to be yours, beings who clung to 
you by all the bonds of the human heart. You 
suffer, I am sure, for having yourself violently 
broken these bonds, for having filled with sad- 
ness the hearts to whom you were attached, for 
having interrupted a task so useful, for having 
abandoned a place where your presence was 
considered a blessing. And when, after that, I 
behold my good sister ; when I see, when I feel, 
when I suffer, for her present grief, and think of 



166 IN THE MARKET. 

the coming grief which may be the result, — 
then my heart suffers much. I must confess it, 
— and shall I say it ? — this suffering, I believe it 
comes home to you." 

And with this letter unfolded before me, and 
one from Charles, wherein he said, "I do as 
you have told me, — I forget you ; but, whilst for- 
getting you, I think of you '! " — with these letters, 
I say, before me, a gentleman, who wished to see 
me, was announced. 

He was polite and courtly. He opened his 
mission with circumspection. He was charged, 
he said, by the Baron de Z., his uncle, to make 
proposals to me. He sought a tutor for his 
sons. He thought the position might be accepta- 
ble. I would be a friend in the house, &c. 

" And who told your uncle," said I with undis- 
guised indignation, " that I was ' in the market' ? 
Know this, my good sir, that not even the Prince 
of the Netherlands could have my private ser- 
vices." 

The nephew left, perhaps astonished at my 
vehemence. I could not help it. And well do 
I remember how I leaned back in my chair, 
and, with a mixture of sorrow and indignation, 
exclaimed, " In the market ! " Then it was time, 



IN THE MARKET. 167 

indeed, that I should break off, and run another 
course. 

Thus spoke the natural heart, born and nur- 
tured in pride ; and, with renewed zeal, I took 
up my studies in law, and wrote to those of my 
friends, who wished to give their help, to 
hasten their measures. And I remember, that 
same day, to have written the first pages of my 
academical law-essay ; and then I took the stage, 
and started for L — n to see my mother once 
more before I should finally leave. 

I was there a whole week, and even there 
continued to write and labor ; and I took leave 
from my mother and sister as one who should 
not see them for a long, long time to come. 

But, when I arrived in my solitary study, I 
found a letter from the baron ; and what a letter ! 
In simple but forcible language, he expressed 
the disappointment of his best hopes. The Swiss 
licentiate proved to be unfit for his task in more 
than one respect. 

" If you could see," said he, " the sorrow of 
my sons, and the deep affliction of their mother, 
you would, I know your heart, be grieved and 
perplexed. Judge of my feelings. You wish 
to he free : remain free. But return for the time 



168 IN THE MARKET. 

you are here, and console those who suffer by 
your absence. Table and room will always be 
ready for you ; for as one of our own do we con- 
sider you : but live where you will and as you 
will ; only return, and give joy and cheerfulness 
to those whom you love." 

And I sat down, and wrote in serious lan- 
guage, according to the fulness of my heart, — 

" I wish to be free, and must be free. Well 
have you understood the first need of my inmost 
nature ; but there is more. Many of my friends 
are kindly engaged in preparing my way. With 
regard to my future course, I am not free. And 
there is even more. Should I never go to India, 
then the whole bent of my mind, the whole force 
of my impulse, goes one way ; and that is the 
improvement of public instruction, the Chris- 
tianizing of education, the harmonizing of the 
various parts into one blessed result, — the Chris- 
tian citizen. If, therefore, I return, it is tempo- 
rarily in every sense. It cannot be otherwise. 
I cannot be unfaithful to the dictates of my 
native feelings, nor to those of a higher influx, 
of which I am fully conscious ; and, with these 
views, is it advisable to make a change ? Is it 
advisable to resume a task, which, however sweet 



IN THE MARKET. 169 

to my taste and feelings, must nevertheless be 
interrupted again, to renewed mutual grief? " 

Thus I wrote, and continued my studies and 
labor ; but, on the 1st of March, I received a 
letter approving of my honest frankness, yet 
insisting upon my immediate return. 

" All," said he, " we need is your presence. 
Your rooms are taken. They are cheerful, neat, 
and near. Come, and restore happiness to those 
who love you so well ; and if, in the plans sug- 
gested, I can be of any use, you may be sure that 
a grateful father's aid will not be lacking." 

Thus he wrote, and thus he acted thereafter ; 
for he was sincere and honest, and a man of 
word and honor, though a courtier and a man 
of the world. 

I was perplexed. "What is to be, is," re- 
curred to my mind ; and when, that evening, I 
took my place in the stage, I felt that some 
decided mark was made in the course of my 
life. 

12 



170 A ROYAL AUDIENCE. 



CHAPTER XVIII. 

A ROYAL AUDIENCE. 

The following morning, I was startled by the 
sudden entrance of two most happy boys. 
Charles rushed up to me, and, throwing his 
arms around my neck, could say nothing but, 
" I am so glad you are come ! " And even 
Adolphe, the older one, felt, with deep emotion, 
that he had a friend again. Both were so hap- 
py, that I forgot my perplexity, and at once 
began to regulate their studies. It was an easy 
work ; and, from the second day, we scarcely 
remembered the few months' interruption, and 
every thing went on as if I had never been 
absent. 

In those days it was that Lady Marie gave 
another proof of her devoted character, now 
exalted by the sweetness of Christian sympathy 
and love. Her faithful attendant, Rose, a hand- 
some girl from quiet Iverdun, in Switzerland 
(who, during many years, had been a watchful 



A ROYAL AUDIENCE. 171 

guardian of her infant boys), was taken with the 
small-pox. Lady Marie immediately locked her- 
self up, and was the only one to nurse her. 
During six long weeks, Rose saw none but Lady 
Marie, who never left her sick-room, and cheer- 
fully submitted to a complete isolation. Stronger 
proof of Christian gratitude and love, I have 
seldom, if ever, seen. 

My friends advised me to go and seek an 
audience with the king, to present him my dis- 
sertation, and ask his royal favor in the further- 
ing of my plans. I did so ; and, whilst waiting 
my turn in the royal ante-chamber, I met there 
Prof. T., who observed, that I ought to have 
appeared in my chasseurs uniform, which was a 
strong argument in my favor. Whilst appre- 
ciating the justness of his remark, a feeling of 
bitterness came over me, and I told my noble 
friend that I had better arguments than my 
military dress. There also I met Prof. P. ; the 
same whose historical question I had, ten years 
before, answered with such republican ardor. 
He smiled, and, alluding to the incident, said, 
" I shall, when my turn comes, speak greatly in 
your favor ; but I think we had better keep si- 
lence about the Washington affair ! " 



172 A ROYAL AUDIENCE. 

At last, the folding-door was thrown open; 
and, a chamberlain calling my name, I entered 
the audience-room. 

King William I. was at that time nearly 
seventy years of age. "With little dignity, there 
was a quiet composure and a benevolent ex- 
pression in his whole appearance, which inspired 
confidence, and made him very popular. He 
was standing near a small writing-table, upon 
which he slightly leaned with the left hand, 
whilst the right hand was always ready to re- 
ceive any request or document. 

I presented humbly my dissertation, " the 
modest fruits of my university studies." He 
gracefully accepted it, perused the title, and, 
laying it on the table, said with a pleasing 
smile, — 

" What can I do for you ? " 

" Nothing, sire : I ask nothing. But allow 
me to express my gratification at having seen 
and addressed a sovereign whose persevering 
wisdom Europe has justly admired." 

" No request ? " asked the king with a sort 
of astonishment, at the same time slightly 
inclining his head in acknowledgment of my 
courteous tribute. 



A ROYAL AUDIENCE. 173 

11 None, sire." 

" I knew your father." 

" I know it, sire." 

" He is no more?" 

" No more, sire," 

" Sir, I shall remember you." 

And, with this, a slight inclination was the 
signal of withdrawing from the royal presence. 

When thereafter I met Prof. T., he said 
with his peculiar emphasis, " You are a strange 
solicitor indeed ! You made no verbal request ; 
you presented none in writing ! It was happy 
I came after you, and made up for your defi- 
ciency. You are strange ! Just like your 
father ! " 

I thanked him for his kindness ; but I did not 
tell him why I had no request to make. For, 
whilst standing before the earthly king, it was 
like a gleam of light passing through my inmost 
soul, " as if I had stood in the presence of a 
higher King, and there, in the depth of a soli- 
tary night, it had been decided what I should 
do or not do;" and though I was alone, and 
had taken counsel with no earthly being, the 
heavenly Majesty which vouchsafed to dwell a 
moment, an imperceptible moment, in my torn 



174 A ROYAL AUDIENCE. 

and heaving bosom, outshone in power and lus- 
tre and goodness the earthly and corruptible 
majesty of my fellow-creature. 

Was this fanaticism 1 I do not know. Thou 
knowest it, who hast made the souls of king and 
subject. It was not pride ; for, at my fathers 
command, I had buried the grievous remem- 
brances of the past. It was not pride ; for I 
sincerely honored the aged king, who had lost 
two-thirds of his domain, and bore his loss with 
Christian fortitude. What was it, then, O Source 
of thought! (I have often tried to find it out,) 
except it be that the lustre of thy countenance 
outshone all other considerations, and even the 
benevolent smile of aged royalty % 

And, when the summer days had come, we 
moved to Rivulet Mansion ; but I took up my 
quarters in the village. For I felt my attachment 
growing so strong, that, should to this be added 
the daily intercourse of family life, a separation 
would almost become impossible. That summer 
is one of pleasant remembrance ; for I was in- 
cessantly occupied. My academical law-essay 
was passing into print ; my pupils were busily 
engaged ; and what was left of time I devoted 
to intense study of Hebrew. 



A ROYAL AUDIENCE. 175 

I had made the acquaintance of the pastor of 
the village, — a young man of considerable talent 
and learning, and who delivered his two sermons 
a Sunday, and these of more than an hour's 
length, without the semblance of failure or hesi- 
tation; for, in that country, to read a sermon 
is not allowed, and extemporaneous preaching 
unknown. It is all studied and written carefully, 
then learned by heart, and delivered with more 
or less ability. Our young pastor was not an 
ordinary man. Dignified, and beaming with 
benevolence, his discourses were beautiful and 
impressive. An excellent Hebrew scholar, he 
kindly volunteered his aid ; and many a time I 
sat in his study, pondering over the intricacies of 
Hebrew grammar. Of the old Masoretic school, 
he stuck to vowel-points and accents, and gave 
me trouble enough. In after-time, I followed 
my own way, and fared the better for it ; for I 
soon found, that, of all grammars, the Hebrew 
is the simplest, because the oldest, and, I would 
say, the most approaching the divine pattern. 

But, as a theologian, I found our zealous and 
eloquent pastor very little orthodox. As yet 
unacquainted with the endless variety of Protes- 
tant views, I drew my knowledge from the most 



176 A ROYAL AUDIENCE. 

simple Bible study. I had been unhappy, rest- 
less, and in the dark. I had felt the darkness ; 
and, with the name of Jesus Christ, a light had 
suddenly arisen. He had at once taken form 
and shape as a Mediator between God and me. 
I saw all in him, and nothing, not even my 
long-neglected Creator, without him. 

How was it, then, O Fountain of truth ! that 
this young man, thy minister and messenger, 
denied thy divinity and thy mediatorship ? How 
was it, then, that, when I opened my heart to 
him, he smiled at my conceit, and called it 
extravagance % How was it, that when, perhaps 
imprudently, I mentioned the blessed night 
wherein thou calledst me, he laughed at my 
" conversion"? Yet he was honest, and preached 
thee, and ministered thy holy sacraments ; and 
his prayers were powerful, and seemed to speed 
heavenward. 

And then I began to study other books, and 
the great split in the Protestant world dawned 
upon my searching mind. Reason I found the 
guide of the one, Faith the watchword of the 
others. But even in neither of the two camps 
did I find a centre of unity, though all seemed 
to appeal to the word of God. 



A ROYAL AUDIENCE. 177 

Then, O Fountain of light ! thou knowest it, 
I was perplexed ; and in my perplexity I thought, 
that, amongst thy frail creatures, I might find 
what thou alone possessest. 

And one afternoon I went to the Roman- 
Catholic church, and found the pastor walking 
up and down the aisle whilst catechising the 
little children. He had been explaining the 
commandments of the church, and asked, — 
" Why must you obey these commandments 1 " 
" Because they are of the church." 
11 And why does the church give them % " 
" Because they are according to the Bible, 
which is the word of God." 

" And how do you know that the Bible is the 
word of God 1 " 

" Because the church says so." 
And the pastor commended the answer of 
these children. But I found that he had made a 
circle, beginning with the church, and ending in 
the church ; and it left me an unsatisfactory im- 
pression. For I verily sought Thee, the Fount- 
ain of truth ; or, at least, I hoped to drink of the 
waters coming from thee. Such were my inward 
troubles, which now cause me to smile, but then 
made me anxious and thoughtful. 



178 A ROYAL AUDIENCE. 

And at last, my law dissertation being printed, 
I went to L. ; and, having defended it with the 
" aplomb " of a doctor in philosophy, I received 
my diploma as a doctor in jurisprudence. 

The chevalier never approved of my East- 
India project. He knew my character, and did 
not believe that the more or less reckless and 
often immoral tendencies of Indian life would 
agree with my disposition. The excellent Prof. 
T. was altogether favorable to my plans. " Ne- 
ver doubt, but believe," said he. And my late 
commander, the Baron V. D., worked zealously 
in my aid. In the month of June, I received 
from him a letter, appointing the time of an 
interview with Capt. L. of the engineers. 

The long and often bloody war in Java had 
ended with the almost complete subjugation of 
the island. The government contemplated the 
erection of a series of fortifications, to secure 
this magnificent domain against external aggres- 
sion and internal mutiny. To this end, an expe- 
dition of military engineers was preparing ; and 
I was offered a brevet as officer. 

I well remember the vivid picture which 
Capt. L. drew of the promising career, — the 
double pay, the double years of service, the 






A ROYAL AUDIENCE. 179 

higher rank ; and I remember, too, the strange 
feeling of indifference wherewith I listened to 
him. Yet I seemed to have attained the climax 
of my early ambition. Three faculties had 
honored me with their diplomas. Ten years' 
university life had stored my mind with an ex- 
tensive range of learning. Of the world, I had 
seen enough to appreciate its good and evil. I 
had made numerous and influential friends. 
The very career, which, in youthful ambition, I 
contemplated, was thrown open under flattering 
auspices, yet a mere stepping-stone to higher 
position: for the all-powerful governor-general 
was my relative ; and, once in Java, the road to 
speedy promotion in civil employment was open, 
— the road to wealth and honor. 

I left the friendly captain with mutual feelings 
of esteem. Two months were granted to make 
my decision. But, when that night I rode home 
to my solitary quarters, I was singularly affected. 
It seemed to me as if I had heard those honora- 
ble proposals for another, and not for myself. 
Thus it seemed to me. But how it worked in 
my soul, and what I thought, I cannot recollect. 
One thing I know, — the wish of " making a 
career, a mark, a fortune, a high position," 



180 A ROYAL AUDIENCE. 

was no more active, no more predominant, in 
my mind. Another thought pre-occupied me 
absolutely and entirely ; and as far as I can re- 
collect, O my God and faithful Preserver, to 
whom our hearts are open ! it was embodied in 
two lines, which I remember at that time to 
have written to my mother. I see them yet, 
clear and distinct, as I wrote them ; but I do not 
recollect what preceded and followed : "If I 
were a clergyman, I would go as a missionary 
to India." 

And shall I now regret having yielded to that 
secret voice, and having neglected the bright 
and last occasion of redeeming the fallen for- 
tunes of my house ? How should I ? for truly 
I took no counsel with flesh and blood : Thou 
knowest it. That very night, on my knees in 
my solitary room, having read Thy Word, I 
called with a loud voice on Thee, as was my 
custom. How Thou heardest me, I truly have 
forgotten ; but that Thou heardest me is sure. 
And, after this, I performed my duties with my 
pupils ; and I remember having progressed that 
summer in knowledge of self and sin : but of 
Capt. L. and the engineers, and the going to 
India, and the prospects of wealth and honor, 



A ROYAL AUDIENCE. 181 

there remained nothing but the faint remem- 
brance, as of a thing gone and past. 

Thus the current of my life-thought was 
changed, and now began to run in a channel 
narrow, deep, and working its way through the 
difficulties of time and circumstances. The hap- 
py results of my educational endeavors, the fa- 
vorable development of my three noble boys, 
the praise bestowed upon them by all who saw 
them, the love and esteem so fully rewarding 
my faithful labors, — all this drew my whole 
attention to the field of education ; and the 
natural turn of my mind to meditation and re- 
search, joined to a disposition loving and affec- 
tionate, made me drink deeper and deeper at the 
Fountain of Eternal Love. To serve him became 
an earnest wish ; to preach him would have been 
my highest aim. And I truly did what I could, 
and preached him to all around me. Nor did I 
lose my reward ; for I became, as it were, the 
centre of a new life, not only in the family where 
I resided, but to many who visited them. 

" Knowledge is power," it has been said ; but 
love is greater power. And I soon perceived 
that I had a lever of great force, and could, with 
the aid of God, apply it to great advantage. 



182 A ROYAL AUDIENCE. 

The Christia?iizing of the education of the higher 
classes became the subject of my constant medi- 
tation. To form citizens, who, by their influence 
and learning,, could stay the current of increasing 
infidelity, and, moving in the highest sphere of 
social life, proclaim the virtue of their Redeemer, 
— this seemed to me the noblest work I could 
desire. 

Thus the year 1836 drew to an end. I was 
one Sunday afternoon engaged in pleasant dis- 
course with the noble family. It was a frosty 
day, but the roomy parlor was cheerful with a 
blazing fire ; and my pupils sat around me, lis- 
tening with attention to the subject of our inti- 
mate conversation. A carriage drove up to the 
gate, and a note was handed me. It was from 
the Rev. Mr. S., the first pastor of the Walloon 
church in H., requesting my immediate presence 
on matters of importance. 

I arose ; and, whilst taking my hat and cloak, 
Lady Marie said with moved voice, " Mr. Leno, 
I have a foreboding that this is going to take 
you from us." 

"Lady Marie," said I, extending my hand, 
" what is to be, is. But it will never take your 
sons from me ; for they are laid up in my heart." 



A PASTOR IN THE CAPITAL. 183 



CHAPTER XIX. 

A PASTOR IN THE CAPITAL. 

The carriage stopped at an humble dwelling 
near the Walloon church. A demure and state- 
ly servant-woman introduced me to the study, 
where I found Pastor S. ensconced in his arm- 
chair, and, pen in hand, perusing the most recent 
publications. 

He was a native from picturesque Lausanne 
in Switzerland. Short of stature, but robust, 
his features indicated serious meditation, with a 
mixture of sensual force sufficient to balance 
the intellectual capacity. His voice was deep 
and sonorous, like far-distant thunder. 

When, robed in the Geneva gown, with deli- 
berate step he entered the church, and after 
standing a few moments at the foot of the pul- 
pit, bent in silent prayer, ascended the steps with 
the thoughtful weight of one who was to speak 
of immortality; then, addressing the crowded 
and fashionable audience, said in tones deep 



184 A PASTOR IN THE CAPITAL. 

and guttural, which seemed to come from an- 
other world, " My brethren, let each one of us 
prostrate himself before the throne of God, 
and make an humble confession of his sins," — 
there was indeed a dignity, an impressiveness, 
which was not lost on the gayest of the noble 
throng. 

But when, after a prayer which gushed, as it 
were, from a well overflowing with the Spirit of 
God, he opened the Scripture, and, having read 
his text, poured forth a stream of eloquence, 
sometimes pathetic and beseeching, sometimes 
severe and reproving, until his whole soul, bur- 
dened with study and knowledge, seemed to burn 
with the fire of inspiration, yet subdued and even 
trembling, as in the Divine Presence, then he 
seemed to me the personification of the true 
preacher. 

And when the long communion-table was 
spread, and rows of hundreds sat down, and he 
stood in the middle distributing the elements to 
the nearest guests, pronouncing slowly the sacra- 
mental words, and, whilst all partook, uttering 
short sentences of humiliation and encourage- 
ment, — sentences deep and stirring, reaching the 
heart of each, producing tears and holy resolu- 



A PASTOR IN THE CAPITAL. 185 

tions, — then, I must confess, he seemed to me 
the personification of the true pastor, reverently 
feeding the flock of the Sovereign Shepherd. 

Such was Pastor S., the leader, at that time, 
of a religious movement in the higher circles of 
the residence. For, with the growth of infidelity 
in Germany, the deadening influence of world- 
liness in France, and the cold formality of the 
Protestant religion in the Netherlands, God had 
raised a new spirit, strong enough to counteract 
the seeds of evil. A Christian gentleman from 
Scotland met a few congenial spirits in Geneva ; 
and soon the names of Malan, Merle d'Aubigne, 
Gaussen, Tronchin, and others, became promi- 
nent as leaders in the cause of Christ. From 
Switzerland it spread to Toulouse in France, and 
Montauban ; thence soon reached Paris ; and the 
three brothers Monod and Vinet and Grandpierre 
were the centres of life-giving Christianity. In 
Germany, the light of true religion had never 
been extinguished : Neander and Tholuck, and 
the fervent Krummachers, and many others, by 
their writings and preaching, proclaimed the 
saving power of Christ. 

xind in the Netherlands, if I remember well, 
the movement began among the higher classes ; 

13 



186 A PASTOR IN THE CAPITAL, 

afterwards it spread, through the instrumentality 
of a Leyden theologian, who boldly broke the 
bonds of formalism, all over the country, mostly 
among the poorer classes. But they adhered 
with obstinate perseverance to the letter of the 
so-called formularies, embodying the creed and 
practice of the " Fathers of the Synod of Dor- 
drecht." The movement among the higher 
classes was more " evangelical," more in the 
spirit of an enlightened Christian brotherhood, 
and drew its life and tenets from the new Ge- 
neva school. 

It was a strange thing to see chamberlains and 
courtiers, ladies of honor and the elite of aristo- 
cracy, assembling weekly at the dwelling of 
Pastor S., and there, in solemn silence, listening 
for hours to his stirring and awakening ex- 
position of Scripture ; and while the hand of 
persecution was raised against the poor, and 
gatherings of more than nineteen persons dis- 
persed, and fines imposed, and scanty furniture 
sold to pay them, the aristocratical meetings in 
the residence were allowed ! 

Pastor S. received me in a friendly manner, as 
one whose serious disposition he knew ; and at 
once opened the subject of my visit. 



A PASTOR IN THE CAPITAL. 187 

In those days, — it may be different now, — 
public instruction in the Northern Netherlands 
was singularly defective. The only public schools, 
besides the primary schools for poorer classes, 
were the Latin gymnasiums, where, beside the 
ancient languages, little else was taught : so 
that a liberal education, including modern lan- 
guages, sciences and arts, could not be obtained 
except in private institutions. In several cities, 
and, among others, in the residence, the city 
government had established schools to supply 
this deficiency. The director of the Industrial 
School in H. had resigned. His place was offered 
to me. 

" The appointments are liberal," said Pastor 
S. ; " but the sphere of usefulness is greater than 
any I can think of. For it will be easy to give 
a better direction to the whole, and to Christian- 
ize, as it were, an institution, where hundreds of 
the middle, and many of the higher class, who 
wish no university career, receive their educa- 
tion." 

It was a large, and in many respects inviting, 
field of action. I could not but acknowledge it. 
Such an appointment would place me at once in 
an independent position, with the means at my 



188 A PASTOR IN THE CAPITAL. 

disposal to carry out my views. Thus it seemed 
to me ; and, asking time for consideration, I left 
Pastor S., not without a feeling of relief when I 
was again rolling on the road. I always disliked 
" cliques," and the secret workings of party spirit. 
Was it because I felt something of the kind ] 

I do not know. It was late when I returned 
to Rivulet Mansion, and found the baron and 
Lady Marie awaiting my arrival. The baron 
was astonished and thoughtful. Lady Marie's 
face expressed anxiety and apprehension. 

"And our boys?" she asked. 

There was a painful silence. I reached her 
my hand, and w T ent to my room. 

I was perplexed, more than I can now con- 
ceive. I believed, as I do still, in a special 
Providence. I had once rejected what was, as it 
were, laid at my door : I did it then, after prayer 
and supplication, because it seemed at war with 
my internal calling. But now, unasked and 
unsought, a position was offered, honorable and 
useful, and, as it were, the first step to what I 
had in view. Should I reject this also ? Would 
it not be tempting Providence ? 

There was yet another consideration. The 
resigning director had a numerous boarding- 



A PASTOR IN THE CAPITAL. 189 

school of young men of the best families. Being 
a particular friend of Pastor S., he promised to 
manage it so that I could take the whole school 
off his hands ; and, when I objected my single 
estate as a serious hinderance to such an ar- 
rangement, Pastor S. said, " I have thought of 
that. But you have a mother, whose authority 
and experience would be more than a compen- 
sation. She might, perhaps, be willing to remit 
her establishment to your sister, and to aid you 
in this useful work." 

I doubted it. But I resolved to ask this as 
another sign from Providence, and wrote to my 
mother. 

With her usual promptness of decision, she 
answered by returning mail, " that she was 
ready " ! 

Then, in my perplexity, I wrote to the cheva- 
lier, and asked his advice. " It is not a govern- 
ment office, " said he, " and therefore I would 
reject it. And, in your mother's co-operation, I 
foresee great difficulty. I know you both as 
highly sensitive." 

He knew me truly, the worthy chevalier! 
and the event proved but too well that he had 
rightly judged. 



190 A PASTOR IN THE CAPITAL. 

Meanwhile, we returned to the residence. I 
saw Pastor S. oftener. I had an interview with 
the director. I saw his house and school. I 
was slower to decide than my mother ; and in 
the month of December, having taken dinner 
with the baron and Lady Marie, I took his hand, 
and said, — 

" Sir, I have decided. I refuse the offered 
position. I remain with your sons. The only 
thing I ask is your aid in forming an institution 
wherein they will be my first, my best, my always 
beloved pupils." 

Tears came into his eyes (a father's grateful 
tears are a precious reward for any sacrifice) ; 
and, pressing my hand, he said, " Thank you ! 
I thank God for it ! From to-morrow I shall go 
to work ! " 

And so he faithfully did, with all the tact and 
discretion of a considerate, noble-hearted friend. 
I wrote a private circular, wherein I stated my 
views with regard to education in general, and 
a full, substantial instruction in particular. I 
limited my number to twelve sons of the noblest 
families. I took the position of conferring a 
benefit, rather than that of being benefited. If 
there was some pride in this, there was some 



A PASTOR IN THE CAPITAL. 191 

truth also. For my present position afforded me 
far more than I needed, with perfect freedom of 
action, and that refinement of associations which 
is worth more than riches ; and, in the position 
which I was ready to assume, I foresaw great 
care and labor, with increase of responsibility, 
whilst the possible pecuniary advantages weighed 
very little or nothing in the balance. Money 
and money-matters I never liked ; and I stood 
firm on the basis of my good and pure intentions, 
though sadly misunderstood by those who know 
that money governs the world. They could not 
conceive of one devoting his youth, time, and 
talents to a task so laborious and uninviting, 
with nothing else to spur to action but the work 
itself. 

Yet so it was. Thou knowest it, O Searcher 
of hearts ! I was not covetous, nor was I ever 
ambitious in the sense of the world. But thy 
truth had found a home in my bosom ; and, de- 
lighting in the sunshine of thy favor, I wished 
to draw others around me, and mostly children, 
the sons of families whose influence and example 
might advance thy kingdom. 

And many, I must say, did understand me 
and appreciated my purpose. The list of twelve 



192 A PASTOR IN THE CAPITAL. 

was soon made up ; and, strange to say, of these 
twelve there were five the only sons of as many 
ancient families. Bright and lovely boys they 
were, between the age of eight and ten ; and, 
what was best of all, they had been nurtured 
with pious care by godly mothers. To see them 
was to love them ; and there only the teacher's 
seed can thrive, where love, having opened the 
furrows of the heart, watches with constant care 
the growing bud. 



WEST-END INSTITUTE. 193 



CHAPTER XX. 

WEST-END INSTITUTE. 

The summer of 1837 would be the last we 
were to spend at Rivulet Mansion; and Lady- 
Marie, with delicate attention, wished to have 
me near, without interfering with my cherished 
liberty. A few yards from the mansion stood a 
building by itself, called the " Orangerie; " which, 
with woman's refinement, she had arranged for 
my use. It was a roomy and cheerful dwelling 
for a student, and allowed me to be with the 
family as much as I pleased, without the trouble 
of walking far. Many an hour I passed there 
with my pupils, and many a one with Lady 
Marie, who also had become my pupil in Eng- 
lish. Instead of the trifling literature of the 
day, she had begun a more solid course of read- 
ing ; and she was willing to make any effort to 
keep pace with the rapid development of her 
sons. As a true mother, she felt a deep interest 



194 WEST-END INSTITUTE. 

in their progress, and the need of furnishing a 
capacious mind, which the world was unable to 
fill. 

Those were happy days, passed in study and 
recreation. My private studies were now exclu- 
sively bent upon theology. I read the Institutes 
of Calvin, and the ponderous volumes of Goma- 
rus, and the learned works of the Leyden Pro- 
fessor Witsius. But what made the deepest 
impression was the Abbe Bautain's " Philosophy 
of Christianity," — a correspondence between 
himself and three Israelitish students, who were 
converted, and entered the Eoman priesthood. 
Attending the abbe's lectures on Universal His- 
tory, they had become attentive to the claims of 
the Christian religion. Before they knew it, 
they were converts ; before they knew it, their 
eyes were opened ; and, one after another, they 
addressed themselves by letters to the learned 
and pious professor. Their difficulties, their 
objections, dwindled successively away before the 
clear and forcible exposition of Christian doc- 
trine as given in the abbe's answers. This cor- 
respondence, so natural, so intimate, led to their 
baptism, and finally to their receiving orders. 
The views of Bautain were, it is true, condemned 



WEST-END INSTITUTE. 195 

by Rome ; but they left a deep impression on 
my mind. For I was confirmed in the opinion, 
" that Christ can be preached by giving a C%m- 
tian tendency to secular instruction ; nay, that the 
Christian element is necessary to a full and true 
and complete knowledge." 

And, towards the middle of July, the baron 
made, with his two eldest sons, a trip along the 
Rhine. Their well-informed mind, the fluency 
with which they spoke three modern languages, 
their spirit of observation, and their historical 
knowledge, so available in countries full of 
tradition and ancient monuments, — all this 
commanded the admiration of their accidental 
travelling companions; and their conscientious 
adherence to received religious instructions, their 
youthful hearts accustomed to prayer, and read- 
ing the Word of Life, — all this found its way 
to their parent's heart. A letter from the baron, 
dated from picturesque Godesberg, contains so 
much interesting detail, so well shows the pro- 
gressive influence of the Spirit of God, that I 
give part of it ; thus honoring thee, O my Pre- 
server, the Fountain of all goodness ! through 
whom alone we can do good, and by whom alone 
we may be encouraged to perseverance. 



196 WEST-END INSTITUTE. 

" We just now have returned from the ruins, where, in 
remotest antiquity, Woden, thereafter Mercury, and now the 
only true God, is adored. Truly, the history of one such 
mountain-castle might be called the type of that of the 
whole human race. The word £ type ' yet sounds in my ears, 
from a long conversation with a learned Englishman, the 
author of a remarkable work on Bible history. His mind 
was ours. I say ours : for I wish to give you a hint that my 
mind approaches yours ; and, though I seldom speak of it, — 
for what is the use of talking ? — I feel that my path con- 
verges more and more towards your own belief. 

" Deep and strange was the impression which the children 
and myself received when visiting the ancient Cathedral of 
Cologne. It was Sunday evening. Notwithstanding the 
diversion of travelling, — and I say this with a deep feeling 
of gratitude, — the boys were devoutly disposed. The even- 
ing service filled the church with kneeling worshippers, 
incense, and heart-elevating song. They looked at me, then 
again around, and were amazed. Charles was deeply 
moved, Adolphe perplexed. It was truly imposing ; and 
the solemn impression was, as it were by contrast, increased 
by the stolid incredulity of an Englishman, who, in answer 
to a question, said that he believed nothing ! And there we 
saw, as the centre of holiness, * Kaspar/ ' Balthasar/ and 
another one, the Three Kings, — at least their skulls, — en- 
shrined in three millions' worth of gold and jewels ! Oh, 
what a contrast with one idea of those children, brought by 
you in the path of truth ! Thanks for it, — thanks ! for 
never did I feel so deeply the blessing therein bestowed. 

" These children are most amiable in our journey ; and, 
could I fear false pride in you, I would not tell you, that, of 
all our fellow-travellers on board the steamer (and we had 
quite a choice company) , there was not one who did not pay 



WEST-END INSTITUTE. 197 

me a flattering compliment on their account. ' In what 
school/ they asked, ' are such young children thus edu- 
cated ? ' However, do not think as if they had to make a 
show. There was no occasion for it ; and, had there been, 
believe me, working in your spirit, I would have prevented 
it : but they took part in the conversation, were amiable, 
polite, obliging, occupied themselves, asked with interest, 
and were all to me that I could wish. Once more, thanks ! 
" It is with anxiety and fear that I look out for tidings 
from you. Confide ! — I do it for you and for me, and for 
yours and for mine ; and my prayers are with and for you. 
He who brought you on my path, or rather who made your 
path and mine to meet, — He will make all things right. 
Whatever may happen, my grateful friendship is yours. 
Thereon I rely. For I know that now yourself, not less 
than I and my wife, are anxious to accomplish your work 
in the children committed to my responsibility." 

Thus he wrote from Germany, after a day of 
fatiguing travel. And the letters of the boys, 
in purest German, breathed a spirit of thankful 
love ; and, whilst appreciating all they saw, they 
spoke with joyful rapture of our approaching 
re-union at Rivulet Mansion. I was alone 
during that time; for Lady Marie and Alfred 
were absent also. And, in those days of solitude, 
I remember having approached nearer to thee, 
O my God ! and having received the deepest 
impression of what is sin. For truly thou call- 
edst me, and I saw thy love and goodness ; but 



198 WEST-END INSTITUTE. 

myself I did not see, before the mirror of thy 
face became bright enough. And then, in that 
light, I found the spots and stains of my soul, — 
yet only few ; and slowly, very slowly, thy Spirit 
withdrew the curtain. And my own wit did not 
find them out ; but, year after year, thou causedst 
circumstances and events, mistakes and errors, 
grief and disappointment, to show me the true 
state of that immortal being which thou hadst 
ordained into thine own image. 

And what was the cause of the baron's " fear 
and anxiety," of his " prayers for me and for 
him " 1 Why did he cheer me " to confide in 
Him who would make all right " ? 

Truly, I do, even now, love him for that heart- 
felt sympathy with my exalted aim. For though 
he would lose the advantage of my exclusive 
attention to his sons, and of an entire home edu- 
cation, he had done all he could to make my 
plan succeed. The parents were awaiting the 
moment that they could place their sons under 
my especial care. There was Count V. D. B., 
who had preceded Gen. d'E. in the govern- 
ment of India ; there was the Baroness F., who 
confided to me the only descendant of a long 
line of statesmen ; there was the Countess V. L. 



WEST-END INSTITUTE. 199 

S., who was anxious to place in my charge her 
only son, whose father died an untimely death as 
general commander of the cavalry ; and others, 
who were anxious to see a work begun in which 
they took the deepest interest. 

Yet I could not begin ; for I had to obtain the 
permission of the city authorities, and this was 
flatly refused. It was an appropriate revenge 
for my declining the directorship of the Indus- 
trial School. It was in the spirit of the times, 
— bitter against the new light in religion. 

Then there remained nothing but to address 
the royal majesty ; and though Count V. D. B. 
was himself a minister of state, yet nothing 
could be obtained. 

But the count, exasperated at difficulties, to 
which his Indian government had made him lit- 
tle accustomed, one morning said to me, in his 
usual tone of concentrated determination, — 

" Open the institute, sir, with or without per- 
mission ; and, if they dare to meddle with it, 
we shall see who can prevent me from having 
my son educated where and by whom I will." 

Thus matters stood when the baron returned, 
and Lady Marie and the children and we were 
once more together at Rivulet Mansion. 



200 WEST-END INSTITUTE. 

Though prudent and cautious, the baron 
agreed with the count's opinion. " Confide," 
said he; "goto work, and leave the result to 
God." And then I went to L — n to see my 
mother, and to take with her the necessary mea- 
sures for her removal to H. For she was ready 
to work with her son in the task before him ; 
she was ready to give to my institution that tone 
of refinement, without which no education of 
boys can be complete ; she was ready to give up 
her position, and to share the risks of my enter- 
prise. And her noble appearance, her perfect 
control of youth, her long experience, could not 
but inspire confidence. I returned with her, 
and she passed some pleasant days at Rivulet 
Mansion. The boys admired her, and the baron 
thought her amiable ; but Lady Marie reserved 
her judgment. With woman's tact, she foresaw 
the coming clouds. 

A large and spacious house was building in 
what is called the West End at the H., recalling 
by its name the aristocratic quarter of London. 
It was rented for four years' time, and the build- 
ing modified so as to suit my peculiar views. 
With this and other arrangements, the month of 
November approached. The 15th was fixed for 



WEST-END INSTITUTE. 201 

the day of opening; and, in the beginning of 
the month, we all took leave of sweet and pic- 
turesque Rivulet Mansion. For two days more, I 
was a guest at the baron's house. 

And then came the moment of leaving. Our 
last year's intercourse had been so intimate, our 
feelings had become so harmonious, that to sepa- 
rate, as it were, my existence from theirs, seemed 
hard and painful. 

I well remember how Lady Marie stood in the 
hall, and the children around. I well remember 
the deep emotion wherewith she extended to 
me her hand, and said, " Mr. Leno, your time of 
struggle has come; but you have true friends 
in us." I well remember how Charles looked 
serious, Adolphe perplexed, and Alfred smiled, 
when I said, " Adieu, dear boys ! The love I have 
for you I must henceforth extend to others be- 
sides yourselves. But love has no measure ; and, 
if you can be. no more my only pupils, you will 
always be, I am sure, my first and my best." I 
well remember how I left the hall, and heard 
the door closed after me, and went my way to 
my own house. And the thoughts which occu- 
pied my mind, I remember, — the new responsi- 
bility which I was about to undertake, the high 

14 



202 WEST-END INSTITUTE. 

expectations of so many anxious parents, the 
new position wherein I stood with regard to a 
criticising public, the opposition I had to expect 
from certain quarters. Then, again, I was con- 
scious of the purity of my motives. The smallest 
act would be an offering. These children I would 
love as I loved my three boys ; and their love, 
which I was sure to gain, would be my recom- 
pense. These were, thou knowest it, O God ! 
my thoughts, when that night I walked silently 
to my new home, where, during four years' time, 
I should work much and suffer much and learn 
much. 

And, that same night, I called the inmates of 
my house together, and, having read Thy Word, 
knelt down, and invoked thy blessing upon the 
house, and the work therein to do, and its pre- 
sent and future inmates. And this was the first 
time that I knelt in prayer with my dear mo- 
ther, since the day that she taught me, when 
a little boy of six, the prayer of the Lord. 

She arose in tears ; and, giving me her hand, 
she said, " Thou hast prayed well : I could not do 
it so." And I felt humbled before my mother, 
and a nameless foreboding crossed my mind. But 
I embraced her as a son, who, since his child- 



WEST-END INSTITUTE. 203 

hood, has been weaned of so great a blessing ; 
and said, " A great, a good work is before us, 
mother ; and God has kindly brought us together 
for its performance." 

A sigh was all her answer. 

The following day, the parents came, conduct- 
ing their precious deposits ; and the assistant 
teacher came from England; and there was great 
bustle and moving and arranging until the 
school was in fair operation. 

A few days later, the minister of the interior 
department came to see the baron, and said, " It 
is all right: the king has instructed the city 
authorities to let West End alone'' 



204 A CLOUD. 



CHAPTER XXI. 



A CLOUD. 



No institution was ever begun under more favor- 
able auspices than that of the "West End." 
With the zeal of enthusiasm, strengthened by 
the powerful impulse of religious principle, I 
soon became for my new pupils what I had some 
four years been to the sons of the baron. I 
was always with them. From the time of morn- 
ing prayers, where every living soul in the house 
assisted, to that of evening worship, when all were 
once more gathered, I was with them. In their 
studies, in their plays, I was with them. For soon 
I loved them ; and love makes all things easy. 

Oh sweet remembrance of time usefully 
passed, when no minute was begrudged, and the 
work seemed pleasure, because it was a work of 
love, and I could say, " The more of it, the bet- 
ter"! 

I had pupils of all ages, from eight to four- 
teen. Differing in temper and progress, I wished 



A CLOUD. 205 

to unite them, and to create amongst them a cer- 
tain esprit de corps. And I adopted a plan, 
which, to this day, I esteem the best, where 
many boys are gathered. I contrived to make 
them ask my permission to form a little company 
of soldiers. They had their chief, their ser- 
geants, their drummer. They had their chasseurs' 
uniform and gun and knapsack. They had their 
daily roll-call, drill, and reports. They had 
their days for shooting at the target ; the younger 
ones with bow and arrow, the older ones with 
gun and shot. They had their punishment for 
breach of discipline, and their solemn court- 
martial for graver offences. Truly, the child is 
father to the man ; and I have often, very often, 
admired the sense of justice and decorum mani- 
fested even by the youngest. And, to this day, I 
remember the deep impression made when once 
I disbanded the company. The little soldiers, 
with serious mien, knowing what was to come, 
donned their uniforms and knapsacks, and 
shouldered their guns. They fell in their 
ranks, — the last and youngest a bright little 
fellow, with smiling face. Then I said seriously, 
without effort, for I did feel sorry, " Young gentle- 
men, there have been strife and discord amongst 



206 A CLOUD. 

you : I feel obliged to disband you." And 
Adolphe, who was the chief, with characteristic 
energy commanded, " Shoulder arms! present 
arms ! right and left, fall out ! " And I shall 
never forget the sorrowful mien wherewith they 
stripped themselves of their uniform, and placed 
their muskets on the rack ; nor the dreary quiet- 
ness which pervaded the whole school during 
three days. They could stand it no longer. 
They signed a petition in due form, promising 
better things, and asking to be restored ; and I 
gravely signed my consent, and from my study 
could hear the joyful shout with which it was 
received. 

And, when the ice threw its glassy sheet over 
the thickening waters, each had his pair of swift- 
gliding skates ; and off we went on long or short 
excursions. Or on the extensive ponds, in the 
magnificent " Wood Park," they used to show 
their expertness to the throng of aristocracy en- 
joying the gay and joyful scenery. 

But the study-hours were many and long, yet 
never wearisome. Three hours began the morn- 
ing work, devoted to Latin, Greek, and mathe- 
matics. Then came a slight repast, with two 
hours' play or walk or exercise. The next were 



A CLOUD. 207 

two hours of lighter occupation, given to modern 
languages, to drawing after bust or model, the 
construction of geographical maps or tables of 
history, and to the sweet melody of vocal music ; 
and when dinner was over, where pleasant con- 
versation and the occasional presence of a guest 
prevented the sin and evil of greediness or sur- 
feit, a little play at shuttlecock or a walk in the 
garden prepared for the evening studies. Then 
I gave my lessons of general interest on Bible 
history or universal grammar, and the art of 
composing, and bringing into written form, what 
the mind had first conceived. They all were 
wide awake : for children of all ages love the 
picture-gallery of God's holy Word ; they all 
delight in the progressive development of their 
thoughts ; they all enjoy the faculty of rightly 
expressing what their mind has fully grasped. 

But the happiest hours were those of Friday 
evening. In the large parlor they all gathered 
together, each bringing his portfolio and drawing 
materials ; and at the extensive table they took 
their seats, and began to sketch and work with 
industry in deepest silence. For I sat at the 
head of the table, the Word of God before me, 
and read aloud the touching histories of patri- 



208 A CLOUD. 

archal times and judges, kings and prophets; 
and now and then I explained, and asked a ques- 
tion ; and sometimes I made a pause, and went 
round inspecting their designs, correcting and 
advising. But, at the appointed hour, the port- 
folios were closed, the household came in, the 
chapter of the evening was read, and explained 
to children's capacity; when all stood up, and 
sang one of the touching "chants de Sion; " then 
knelt, and in prayer I commended them to thee, 
O my God ! for at that time I had no bitterness, 
and I could easily give what I so abundantly 
received. 

Thus we lived and studied : and if my life 
was one of constant care and occupation, if none 
but the few hours of sleep were hours of rest, 
and even those disturbed by severe cough, I did 
not feel it ; for I soon loved all those boys as 
truly as I did my former pupils. They were 
bright and gentle ; and my unreserved sacrifice to 
their welfare soon kindled in their unsophisti- 
cated hearts the soft, burning flame of true 
affection. 

There was but one whose violence of temper 
for a long time baffled all my efforts. The only 
son of a noble countess, he inherited from his 



A CLOUD. 209 

military father an indomitable spirit, which bade 
defiance to all rule and discipline. He was the 
only child whom ever I have been obliged to 
chastise in the scriptural sense of the word. 
But I did it deliberately, and with unflinching 
severity, gathering strength from deep convic- 
tion of duty. When he saw my perseverance, 
and the grief and sorrow which struggled in my 
bosom; when, week after week, I had to go 
through the terrible ordeal, — he perceived my 
extreme love in my extreme severity. And he 
loved me more than any pupil ever did; his 
heart clung to me with all the earnestness of 
gratitude ; and when, six years thereafter, I de- 
parted for America, with heart-rending sorrow 
he hung on my neck, weeping bitter tears. On 
board the vessel, I received his last farewell let- 
ter, wherein he said, " I cannot express my 
feelings when remembering all the blessings and 
all the care which I enjoyed during the long 
years passed with you ; and sometimes I remem- 
ber with gladness, that you never punished me but 
justly. I have often thought of you, nor do I 
forget you in my prayers. But I feel I am yet 
far from God ; for I do not love to pray, yet 
have I a secret desire of being converted. What 



210 A CLOUD. 

must I do?" And what I answered him, or 
if I answered him, I do not know ; for soon the 
swift-sailing vessel was steering to the West. 
But this I know, that my dear, dear William T., 
the boy whom I loved best, the countess's son, 
and godson of the king, is now an humble, faith- 
ful minister of Him whom then he sought. 

And, whilst those children gave me a daily 
reward by their affection and progress, the pa- 
rents did not less to encourage the man, who, 
they felt, devoted heart and life to their dear- 
est hopes and expectations. Their visits and 
those of their friends and relations were assidu- 
ous. Our classrooms were seldom without these 
intelligent, appreciating witnesses ; and our even- 
ing lessons were frequently enlivened by the 
presence of mothers, who fully entered into my 
plan of instruction. But the sweet Friday even- 
ings were a chief centre of attraction ; and some 
made it a habit of coming regularly. 

Thus I worked; and " West-End Institute," 
under especial royal protection, became the 
praise of many, and the stumbling-block of 
some : for, where there is success, there is, by 
the natural impulse of the human heart, a sort 
of jealousy. We generally wish only well to 



A CLOUD. 211 

that which, is our own, or under our own direct 
or indirect protection, — to that which is more 
or less identified with ourselves^ even in remote 
degree. What is not so, we are disposed to 
treat with indifference, or, at the slightest occa- 
sion, with hostile feeling. Such is man, even in 
this showing the original of a divine pattern, 
but defaced. For Thou, O perfect Love ! wish- 
est well to all men, because they are all thy 
workmanship, and are related to thee, even the 
most erring, as creatures to their Creator. 

And I myself — I loved this work, perhaps too 
much, as my own. Perhaps the love of these 
children, and the praise of the parents, and the 
esteem of men, made me too secure ; and I gave 
less attention to the feelings of others, and 
courted less the approval of others, and thus 
made a breach of charity. Truly, O my God ! 
thy Word has said, " The heart of man is deceit- 
ful in all its ways." Twenty years have passed, 
and humbling sorrow and affliction have chas- 
tened me ; and, thou knowest it, I have often 
tried to find out the secret workings of my heart ; 
and I know it was then pure and true before 
thee, as much as we can be before the only true 
and holy One : but I verily think I was too se- 



212 A CLOUD. 

cure ; and confiding in thee, and in the honesty 
of my purpose, which was a virtue, I neglected 
my fellow-beings and their influence, which was 
an evil. 

Pastor S., who was ready to exert so great an 
influence in the " Industrial-school" affair, had 
little or none in " West-End Institute ; " and the 
party of which he was the leader, and which 
included some of the most influential families, 
and, among others, the Baroness F., whose son 
was one of my pupils, looked upon me as a 
natural " exponent " of their views. 

I called Pastor S. the leader of that party. 
I was perhaps wrong. He was the spiritual 
director and adviser, — the " oracle," so to say ; 
but he who gave position and authority to the 
party, who brought it in connection with politics, 
was the Counsellor of State, Baron G. V. P. 
He was a man of singular abilities, a most 
accomplished scholar, a sound and thoughtful 
writer, a strong adherent of the reigning dynasty, 
a thorough champion of the " divine right of 
kings," a deep and uncompromising Calvinist, 
and therefore a determined friend or foe. 

But following the advice of the baron and of 
Lady Marie, and not less the dictates of my own 



A CLOUD. 213 

rather independent spirit, I avoided the very 
semblance of party tendency. My happy Fri- 
day evenings took the place of the Friday " meet- 
ings " at Pastor S.'s : my whole arrangements 
were, perhaps, in opposition to some of their 
more u precise " views ; and, except the natu- 
ral parochial relations, I gently repelled some 
endeavors to bring " West-End Institute " under 
the real or ostensible influence of Pastor S. 
Yet, with all this care, in two instances I ac- 
cepted their advice and aid ; and, to this day, I 
must regret it. 

My only help to assist me in the arduous task 
was an English gentleman. He came highly 
recommended by one in whom I placed un- 
bounded confidence. He was able, but eccentric ; 
and what I sought first of all, what was so 
indispensable in conducting the work as I under- 
stood it, — a heart wherein the Spirit of God was 
stirring, — I did not find. It marred his influ- 
ence, it destroyed his usefulness ; and, after three 
months' trial, I gave it up, and said, "Let us 
part in peace. The work we have before us 
requires another disposition. Let us part in 
peace." In this I acted with the advice of the 
counsellor, who was peremptory in all things. 



214 A CLOUD. 

Eeluctantly he went ; and, whilst the counsellor 
and Pastor S. took upon themselves to seek in 
Switzerland a proper aid, I remained alone, and 
worked beyond my strength. 

For in instruction and general guidance my 
noble mother could not assist me. Her health 
was feeble, her nervous system highly irritable. 
She truly loved me, and had looked forward to 
her new position with all the joy of one who 
feels the need of "busy rest." 

" My heart is lighter," thus wrote she once, 
" at the thought, that, living with you, my soul 
will receive more life. I shall not always have 
to give, — always to give : I, too, shall receive 
salutary impressions." 

And in another letter, " Yes, my well-beloved 
son, I w T ish to devote to you those years of my 
life, wherein, whilst being useful to you, I may 
enjoy the happiness of daily intercourse. I am 
very decided upon that subject. Daily I pray 
the Lord to bring us together, and to bless your 
noble undertaking. I shall do all in my power 
to become identified with my new duties. I shall 
know how to learn ; and the very thought of 
making your home more agreeable awakens my 
soul, and renews life to my senses." 



A CLOUD. 215 

Thus wrote my dear mother ; and she meant 
all she said ; for she was noble, and a lover of 
truth. For a time, I was happy and proud: 
happy in having the society, experience, and aid 
of one in whom there was so much to love and 
to admire ; proud in being enabled to maintain 
in my interior arrangements the spirit of refine- 
ment and decorum, which made a home of my 
institute, and a Christian home, completely 
answering the dream of my life. 

But often, when, after a day's heavy work, I 
sat down in the cheerful family room, and ex- 
pressed my heartfelt satisfaction, my gladness, at 
unhoped success, I was answered with a sigh, a 
silent sigh, which checked the happy current of 
my feelings ; and when friends came to see my 
mother, friends who had not approved her reso- 
lution, I perceived a cold restraint, a feeling of 
uneasiness. 

And I have a sad, very sad remembrance 
of some days. But, on the day of my twenty- 
seventh anniversary, I made my customary walk 
with my pupils. It was a gray and gloomy 
afternoon. I remember each step, each barren 
tree, each snowy pathway; for my heart was 
heavy, and my oldest pupils walked by my side. 



216 A CLOUD. 

And at dinner I sat down alone, as I had done 
two days before ; and, when that night I went 
to bed, I was afraid and trembling. 

But, in the early morning, I heard a carriage 
stopping at the gate. The coach-door was 
opened, and as soon closed again, and the coach 
drove off at a rapid pace. 

And, when I came down, I found that I was 
left alone. 



SUNSHINE. 217 



CHAPTER XXII. 

SUNSHINE. 

Thus was the prediction of the chevalier ful- 
filled. The so newly erected building of my 
hope received a terrible shock. For those who 
were unfavorable to my enterprise drew the 
conclusion, that a son who did not honor his 
mother could not rightly educate the sons of 
others ; and those who were worldly-minded 
were glad to say that my religion was an exter- 
nal garb. 

Those were days of unutterable sorrow. My 
heart seemed one wound. But I went on with 
my work as well as I could, though I felt 
languid and amazed : for I was not yet accus- 
tomed to be the subject of public talk ; and to 
defend myself seemed to bring on an accusa- 
tion. 

Then it was that the baron rendered me the 
service of a true and prudent friend. Wherever 
an accusing voice was uttered, he went in per- 

15 



218 SUNSHINE. 

son, and spoke from personal knowledge; and 
thus, by degrees, he rectified public opinion. 
For, during four years, he knew me intimately, 
with all the good and evil there was in me. My 
sweet sister also, whilst devoted to my mother, 
equally loved me, and did not fail to rectify erro- 
neous judgments : and my own dear mother 
perceived, but too late, the harm she did; and 
wrote : — 

" My heart is sad, when thinking that I am 
far from my two children, whom I love. Oh ! 
why did my health, affected by a life full of 
trials, prevent me from being for you what I so 
much desired? Had a change, so great at my 
age, not influenced my manner of seeing and 
appreciating things, perhaps I should yet be 
there. This I repeat to myself every moment. 
Oh! do not accuse yourself." 

Thus she wrote in answer to my sorrowful 
letters, for she loved me truly ; and six years 
thereafter, when sixty-four years of age, she 
crossed the ocean to live w r ith me, and, after 
three years, departed in my arms, with blessing. 

The storm passed, but left me weary and 
lonely. With an effort, I resumed the daily 
routine, and with even more concentration of 



SUNSHINE. 219 

force than before. For now my pupils were my 
all ; and though many well-meaning parents 
advised me to seek a companion, who might 
share my labors, and restore to me the sweetness 
of family life, all my thoughts, my energies, my 
efforts, were bent upon one thing, — the complete 
success of my institute, the realization of my 
theory of education and instruction. 

And I did succeed. My former pupils, stimu- 
lated by the additional power of emulation, 
worked hard and well, and did me honor ; and 
the younger ones, without exception, answered 
fully my endeavors. The only thing I needed 
was an aid, capable to enter into the spirit, not 
only of the moral, but also of the intellectual 
and social training. 

And, through the endeavors of Pastor S., there 
came a young man from Switzerland to assist 
me. But I soon found that he needed instruc- 
tion himself; and I cheerfully gave it him, and 
treated him as a brother. He was simple, and 
of narrow capacity, but had an under-current of 
cunning shrewdness, which afterwards gave me 
much trouble. 

At the counsellor's recommendation, I re- 
ceived a matron, to be at the head of domestic 



220 SUNSHINE. 

affairs. She was a thorough housekeeper, but 
worldly-minded, and with a spirit of intrigue 
which I did not understand. For I was inclined 
to take people as they appeared, and had not 
learned the art of governing ; which chiefly con- 
sists in " using the good qualities of men, and 
guarding against their evil ones." 

I had now been obliged to increase the num- 
ber of my pupils ; and fifteen noble boys were 
gathered in my fold. When the month of June 
drew to an end, I appointed a day for examina- 
tion ; to which the parents and their numerous 
friends were invited. The thought of " prepar- 
ing " for an examination never entered my mind ; 
for my pupils had been " preparing " all the 
time. It was a review lesson, intended to show, 
not only their individual progress, but the whole 
system of instruction. 

Many were the noble ladies and friends, who, 
on the last day of June, thronged the study hall ; 
and when my boys came in with all the confi- 
dence of " doing well," because they had implicit 
confidence in their guide, my heart, I must con- 
fess, beat high. I felt one with them, and as a 
superior link between them and their parents. 
Like every morning lesson, I opened this with 



SUNSHINE. 221 

prayer. Then came the review of our Bible 
reading ; and the little son of Count V. D. B., 
a beautiful boy, narrating with lively precision 
the " wanderings of the Israelites in the des- 
ert," I took occasion to remark, how this life is 
the desert through which we travel to gain a 
heavenly Canaan ; and I heard the aged count 
repeating with deep conviction, " True, very 
true ! " 

Then, whilst the higher classes reviewed their 
mathematical and physical studies, the younger 
ones wrote a composition in French, which they 
handed to their parents, as a remembrance of 
the day. 

This took two hours. Now came an hour 
of rest and of great surprise. For, after a few 
moments, the drum was heard, and the word of 
command, and the clash of guns, and the little 
troop marched proudly and firmly to the play- 
ground ; and, having shown their expertness 
in drill, knapsack and gun disappeared ; and, in 
a moment, they were running the swinging-pole, 
balancing in the horizontal bars, climbing the 
ropes, and racing and jumping, until the drum 
recalled them to the ranks, and the study-bell to 
the hall. 



222 SUNSHINE. 

Then an hour was given to review the 
younger ones in German and history and geog- 
raphy ; whilst the older class solved an algebrai- 
cal problem, and made a German composition, 
which they handed to their parents. 

And the last hour was given to Greek and 
Latin, whilst the younger ones exercised their 
skill in a rectilinear drawing. It was all natu- 
ral, because they did what they were accus- 
tomed to do. It was a true exponent of their 
instruction and progress. It was a day of sat- 
isfaction for the parents, of pleasure for the 
pupils, and of honor for myself. It was a 
happy day. 

After dinner, my delighted pupils made a long 
walk with me along the sea-shore, talking and 
laughing, and laying out plans for the six-weeks' 
vacation. And when, towards dark, we came 
home, we assembled for prayers ; and, having 
blessed them, we separated, to meet again on the 
16th of August. 

But I began to prepare for a journey to 
Germany and Switzerland; for my health had 
suffered by continual exertion, and I wished to 
see the best establishments for education, and to 
learn by seeing and comparing. This had been 



SUNSHINE. 223 

a cherished plan, once slightly alluded to in a 
conversation with the Dowager B., the grand- 
mother of one of my pupils ; and whilst, one 
day, I was regretting that perhaps I should have 
to give it up, as the expenses of a new establish- 
ment were great and many, a letter was laid on 
my table, containing five hundred dollars in 
bank-notes ! But the letter itself was far more 
worthy ; for the venerable and noble lady 
pressed, in kind and sympathizing words, the 
necessity of a journey for the restoration of my 
health, and its usefulness for the extension of 
my knowledge and experience. She feared there 
might be an obstacle, which she was happy to 
be able to remove. 

" Allow me, sir," thus she ended, " to beg of 
you to accept the enclosed bank-notes, as a 
mark of my esteem, and of the interest I take in 
an establishment, which, under God's blessing, 
must have such happy results for the precious 
children confided to your care. Is it necessary 
to add, that, amongst them, there is one who is 
very dear to me ? " 



224 GERMANY AND SWITZERLAND. 



CHAPTER XXIII. 

GERMANY AND SWITZERLAND. 

As soon as the steamer had carried me to the 
Prussian frontier, I took the stage to Bonn, where 
I had letters of recommendation. It is a cheerful 
city, with its shady walks and pleasant vineyards 
and its sociable inhabitants. I found the tone of 
the students far more refined than it is usually, 
and soon perceived that it was owing to their 
frequent intercourse with the many agreeable 
families residing in the place and neighborhood. 
Professor Nietsch was, at that time, the soul and 
life of the evangelical movement in Rhenish 
Prussia ; a learned man, with childlike simplicity. 
He made me acquainted with Mr. Thormann, a 
Bernese patrician exiled from his country. With 
his accomplished wife, he had succeeded in estab- 
lishing a most excellent institute for young ladies. 
Of all the institutions I have seen, this came 
nearest to my ideal of Christian home-life, joined 
to extensive solid instruction. 



GERMANY AND SWITZERLAND. 225 

I spent there happy days. I found congeniality 
in aim and purpose ; and their accomplished 
daughters charmed me with their unsophisticated 
simplicity. But soon the steamer carried me up 
the panorama of the Rhine to Coblentz, with its 
impregnable fortress of Ehrenbreitstein, in name 
as forbidding as in aspect ; and thence to " gold- 
en" Mentz, the pride of Germans. The much- 
praised Rhine I thought tedious, the many castles 
monotonous, the names harsh ; and I was glad 
when I was rolling in a carriage along the plea- 
sant road to rich and thriving Frankfort. 

An elderly gentleman, a respectable merchant 
from Elberfeld, had offered himself as my com- 
panion through Germany to Schaffhausen. He 
bore the forbidding name of Wolf, but was better 
than his name ; for a meeker Christian I never 
met: and though I prized independency above 
all things, not least when travelling, I accepted 
his proposal. 

From Frankfort we journeyed over Darmstadt 
to Heidelberg. In Darmstadt we took our break- 
fast in a most delightful garden. I well remem- 
ber the inscription over the entrance. It was 
characteristic of German feeling, and struck me 
by its touching simplicity : " The flower speaks : 



226 GERMANY AND SWITZERLAND. 

' Oh ! look at me, but do not cull me ! For life so 
beautiful and short has God, and not thou, given 
me.'" 

The whole road was lined with apple and pear 
and walnut trees ; and the wayfaring man was 
welcome to all. But here and there I observed a 
small bundle of straw suspended to the trunk. 
When I asked what it meant, the coachman said, 
" Those are a few trees which the owners reserve 
to their own use." 

I was struck with the number of children 
which I saw in the villages and towns. But their 
behavior astonished me more than their num- 
bers : for I never saw them play boisterous games, 
but they mostly conversed peacefully together ; 
or, toward evening, they were sitting in groups 
before their humble but neat and tasteful dwell- 
ings, and joined in sweetest choral harmony. 

I lingered more than two hours among the 
interesting ruins of the Castle of Heidelberg, 
which they began to build in 1300, and which 
was burnt in the last century. But what pleased 
me most was the delightful garden, with its mag- 
nificent cherries, whose fame is spread far and 
wide. The students here seemed less refined 
than those of Bonn. I was shown the house, on 



GERMANY AND SWITZERLAND. 227 

the other side of the gentle-streaming Neckar, 
where they daily met to fight their ruthless duels ; 
and many were the handsome faces disfigured by 
an ugly sabre-stroke. 

From Heidelberg we went over sweet and 
flowery Heilbrunn to Stuttgart, with its broad 
and regular streets ; and thence, through a coun- 
try as picturesque as artist can desire, we arrived 
at Tubingen. The tone of the students here 
seemed even more rough than at Heidelberg. 
They avoided all intercourse with ladies, but in 
their studies were said to be superior. Allowing 
a perfect freedom in manner and method, the 
faculties observed an unflinching severity in exa- 
mination and discipline. 

And now we left what has been called the 
garden of Germany, with its varied scenery, its 
many and populous villages, its thrifty, honest, 
and refined inhabitants ; a land of song and music, 
of social habits and pleasant intercourse. We took 
our journey through rough and mountainous Sua- 
bia, stepped over the Danube near its source, and 
reached ancient Schaffhausen, with its irregular 
streets, its numerous fountains and curious houses, 
painted with image of knight or saint. Here my 
worthy companion left me for St. Gallen, on the 



228 GERMANY AND SWITZERLAND. 

beautiful Lake of Constance ; and I went in an 
opposite direction, on the road to Zurich. 

Every thing assumed a smaller scale, except 
the works of God. No more domains of princes 
and dukes ; no more castles with long-sounding 
names, the cradles of many a sovereign house ; 
but the scanty soil divided among many, and those 
the hard-working, sturdy mountaineers. The 
lordly parks dwindled away into modest farms 
and humble sheepfolds, the stately mansions into 
thatched cottages and solitary chalets. But in 
the distance loomed the bold and rugged outline 
of the Berner Oberland ; and far above in the 
deep azure, here and there, some sharp and 
pointed cloudlike spots attracted my attention. 
They did not move or change. " What can it 
be ? " said I to the coachman, whose seat I occu- 
pied. " Are they clouds ? What are they ? " And, 
pointing with his whip, the sturdy Swiss, in broad 
and guttural tones, gave me the full benefit of 
his knowledge : " The Jungfrau, the Wedderhorn, 
the Finster Aarhorn, the Schreckhorn," &c. 

And I remember that I was filled with awe. 
They stood at more than a hundred miles of dis- 
tance, the silent witnesses of the Power which 
heaved them up from the bosom of a convulsed 



GERMANY AND SWITZERLAND. 229 

globe. In their needle-shaped form and ghastly 
hue, they appeared to me as gigantic hiero- 
glyphics impressed on the dark-blue sky. 

In Zurich I had a pressing letter of commen- 
dation to the Baron Meyer de Knonau, a type of 
Swiss aristocracy. Highly educated, refined, and 
obliging, he received me with kindness. He in- 
troduced me to the Reading Cabinet, a beautiful 
locality ; " but only for the nobility" as he re- 
marked with stately reserve. It sounded strange 
to me in republican Switzerland. 

Then he took me to the Institute for the Deaf 
and Dumb, combined with that for the Blind. 
We found the director engaged in teaching one 
of the first. He was from Wurtemberg ; a hand- 
some man of about thirty, whose countenance 
beamed with affectionate goodness and intelligent 
benevolence. They used no finger-language : all 
communications were made by the distinct inflec- 
tion of mouth and lips. Most wonderful to see 
them speak together without a sound, but moving 
their lips as if speaking with particular distinct- 
ness ! I spoke thus to some, not uttering a voice, 
but merely moving my lips as if speaking in an 
" earnest " whisper. They answered me readily 
and w r ell. 






230 GERMANY AND SWITZERLAND. 

The director showed me the ninth volume of a 
diary kept by one of those deaf and dumb (then 
fifteen years of age), most beautifully written, and 
admirably composed. I find in my notes of that 
day, " How very, very glad I should be to see the 
oldest of my pupils perform such a work ! " 

In another locality were the blind, both boys 
and girls. I heard them sing a piece composed 
by one of them, and set to music by another ; 
and, whilst I was yet entranced by the impressive 
melody, they began a chorus which drew tears 
from not only me, but even from those who were 
their daily attendants. The musical talent of 
some was wonderful : they could immediately 
name all the sounds of a piano-accord of five, six, 
and seven notes. 

I left this institute, more than ever convinced 
of the little I did myself, and almost ashamed of 
having undertaken that little. 

It would be difficult to surpass the Baron Meyer 
in kind regard toward a stranger ; and others, to 
whom I had letters of introduction, showed me 
like attention. But soon I was on the road to 
Berne, the nominal capital of the Helvetian Re- 
public ; a beautiful city, round which the Aar 
streams with rapid course, with high and well- 



GERMANY AND SWITZERLAND. 231 

built houses, an endless number of balconies, and 
handsome-arched sidewalks. I thought the Ber- 
nese costume very pretty, the women handsome, 
but the language harsh and disagreeable. 

An introduction to Baron de Frieshing opened 
to me not only his own hospitable house, but all 
that I could wish to see. My chief desire was to 
be at Hofwyl, the institute of the celebrated Fel- 
lenberg. Himself of noble family, the enthusiasm 
of philanthropy had sustained him in his long 
and strenuous efforts to improve the public edu- 
cation of all classes. 

I found him a venerable gray-haired man, erect 
and dignified, yet with a mixture of benevolent 
humor. Evidently pleased to meet a man, who, 
in the task of education, saw more than a matter 
of business, he charged his son with the care of 
showing me through the establishment. 

It was a little village by itself. There was the 
institute for the higher classes ; a noble, spacious 
building of three stories, with about sixty pupils. 
The arrangements for studies, bathing, swimming, 
gymnastics, &c, were most complete. At a dis- 
tance was the building for the middle classes, 
with some hundred and fifty pupils ; and, far- 
ther off, the institute for the poor^ with its 



232 GERMANY AND SWITZERLAND. 

various shops of carpenters, blacksmiths, &c. 
Some were educated as agriculturists, and the 
extensive grounds were intrusted to their care. 

There was not a teacher or usher who had 
not been educated at Hofwyl. The whole was 
like a vast machine, one part supporting the 
other ; yet I could perceive the traces of decay. 
And I thought that the cause was the absence of 
positive truth ; that it was more the embodiment 
of one man's individual idea than the spontane- 
ous growth of a life-giving principle. 

For, when I returned to the venerable origina- 
tor of this vast undertaking, I found him full of 
enthusiasm with " eternal ideas ; " but an humble 
reliance on revealed truth I did not find. He 
showed me the Oratory, where, every Sunday, he 
lectured to his pupils ; and, when I asked him 
what were mostly his subjects, he answered with 
the glow of enthusiasm, " The eternal ideas which 
are implanted in our nature ! " 

I left Hofwyl with thanks for received atten- 
tion, but also with a deep feeling of disappointed 
expectation. 

From Berne, the stage took me over a pleasantly 
varied road to Fribourg, with its magnificent sus- 
pension-bridge. There all spoke French, and I 



GERMANY AND SWITZERLAND. 2e33 

was glad ; for the Swiss sounds harsh and rough. 
It was midnight when I arrived at Lausanne, 
where I had several letters of the more " spir- 
itual" sort. 

The following day was Sunday ; and I went 
to the Church of St. Francois, where I heard a 
very good discourse on the touching scene of 
Rebecca's departure, and arrival in the tents of 
Isaac. The subject "struck me ; for I must con- 
fess that my thoughts wandered often in the fields 
of imagination. And I left the church with the 
unanswered question, "Is there a Rebecca for 
me?" 

This text in after-time recurring to my mind, 
like Professor T.'s the world wide open^ caused 
me trouble and vexation. 



16 



234 IS IT REBECCA? 



CHAPTER XXIV. 

IS IT RKBECCA] 

When, the following day, I was on board the 
steamer, crossing the lake to pleasant and cheer- 
ful Geneva, my attention was fully taken up by 
the widow of a Moravian minister. She was more 
than handsome, — she was interesting; and a che- 
rub-like little son of five increased the attraction. 
Her conversation had the sweetness of Christian 
refinement; and it was with regret that I took 
leave of her when the steamer stopped at Nyon, 
where she resided. 

Did I think of Rebecca 1 I do not remember. 
But the little fellow's sixth birthday was to be 
on the 7th of December. I marked it carefully 
in my note-book ; for there I see it yet. It is on 
account of this little memorandum that I mention 
the incident ; for the thoughts which busied me 
when pencilling that line have been swept away 
by the rapid course of twenty years, and that 
lovely widow I never more beheld. But my soul, 



IS IT REBECCA'? 235 

when recalling the memories of the past, must 
confess, that it became entangled, as it were, in 
the dangers of a fixed idea, as if I had to seek a 
Rebecca far off ; and- I called faith what was 
indeed a lack of faith, seeking instead of waiting, 
and thus weaving a net of difficulties and sorrows 
where my path might have been smooth and plea- 
sant. For not willingly, O my God ! dost thou 
afflict the children of men, and thy hand lies sel- 
dom heavily on them ; but, resisting or forestall- 
ing thy providence, they make their own troubles. 
And when truly thine own hand strikes, they feel 
the difference ; for, with the blow, thou sendest 
the spirit of consolation. 

My first visit in Geneva was to the venerable 
Merle d'Aubigne, to whom I was strongly recom- 
mended by several friends in H. A son of the 
Baron V. H., who had already placed two sons at 
West-End Institute, received his first education in 
d'Aubigne's family. As he was to become my 
pupil, his parents requested me to take him in 
charge on my return. I found him an amiable, 
intelligent boy of thirteen, who proved an agree- 
able companion. 

Merle d'Aubigne was a man in the strength of 
manhood, of large proportions, very dark com- 



236 IS IT REBECCA? 

plexion, severe aspect ; but, under the dark and 
heavy eyebrow, there flashed a light of Christian 
fortitude and meekness. I truly loved him, and 
I could perceive that he took in me a more than 
common interest. His wife, a lady of command- 
ing beauty, was a native of Portugal; who, 
touched by the light of gospel-truth, fled country 
and kindred, and became a faithful pastor's wife, 
and the mother of a most charming family. 
When, a year thereafter, I saw her again, I found 
her mourning with a mother's sorrow: for one 
after another they had been gathered into para- 
dise ; and through her tears she spoke with 
touching simplicity, " Truly, it has shaken my 
faith ; for I begged so hard for the last one ! " 

And through d'Aubigne I became acquaint- 
ed with the learned and amiable Gaussen, the 
enthusiastic author of the " Theopneusty ; " and 
with Pilet Joly, eloquent through the simplicity 
of his faith ; and with full-souled Laharpe, and 
others of the " Ecole Theologique," at that time 
the true exponent of the great and wholesome 
movement in Geneva. 

But my heart yearned after the author of the 
" Songs of Zion." To him I had an introduction 
from his son, whom I met at Tubingen. I had 



IS IT REBECCA? 237 

none other : for already then he stood alone, — 
alone in his excellency, alone in his faults, alone 
in his security; and, perceiving this, my heart, 
itself too secure, sought him out with strange 
and unaccountable eagerness. 

About half a mile from the suburbs of Ge- 
neva, there was a charming spot, not improperly 
called " Pre Beni," or " Blessed Meadow." It 
was an extensive garden, with an enclosure of 
fragrant hawthorn, jessamine, and lilac. Laid out 
in simple style, the undulating grounds presented 
the most pleasing variety of flower-beds, terraces, 
and groves of chestnut, lime, and rose trees. The 
dwelling was like the surrounding garden, in its 
style combining Swiss simplicity and English com- 
fort ; and near by stood, ensconced between the 
graceful trees and shrubbery, a neat and cheerful- 
looking chapel, with its belfry always ready to 
call to prayer : it was the " Church of the Wit- 
ness." 

For there the venerable pastor had borne wit- 
ness to the truth of God for more than twenty 
years, in a time of reproach and persecution, in 
a time when the divinity of his Saviour was openly 
denied in the pulpits of Geneva. Endowed with 
all the gifts of body and mind, he refused the 



238 IS IT REBECCA? 

applause of an unbelieving multitude, and, 
descending from national pulpit and professor's 
chair, became for Switzerland what Wesley and 
Whitefield had been for England. 

He received me as one whom he had long 
since expected. I was struck by his appearance. 
His snow-white hair waving in graceful locks 
over his broad and well-built shoulders, his clear 
and piercing eye, his almost faultless face and 
winning smile, — it all took me by surprise. Soon 
we were in deep and searching conversation ; and 
I left him, with the promise of an evening visit, 
to make the acquaintance of the family. 

That afternoon, towards dusk, I went to the 
Chapel of the Witness. It was rapidly filling 
with sober and serious looking men and women. 
The " songs of Zion," so sweet and solemn ; the 
fervent prayer of the pastor; the pathetic and 
heart-searching exhortation, — it all struck me by 
its natural expression of deep-felt piety. It was 
different from what I had seen or heard before. 

From the chapel, I accompanied the pastor to 
his dwelling. And they sat down' at the long 
supper-table, the venerable parents at the end ; 
nine maidens, young men and children, between 
them. Three were absent, — one a missionary in 



IS IT REBECCA? 239 

India, another a student in Tubingen, and a third 
(a daughter) on a visit to Nyon. The pastor 
was the same in his family circle as in the pulpit ; 
wide awake, and glowing with Christian affection. 
And at last the whole family, rising, sang one of 
the " chants de Sion ; " after which, all kneeling, 
he poured forth a fervent prayer for his family 
and for the absent ones, and did not forget the 
stranger and his work. 

When, on the following day, I mentioned my 
unbounded admiration to the noble-hearted d'Au- 
bigne, I perceived a shade of thoughtfulness 
settling on his brow. What he said, I do not 
remember ; but it became clear to me, that, even 
among the " brethren " in Geneva, there was 
diversity of opinion. And I believe, that if I had 
followed his advice, " to be on my guard," I should 
have saved myself a great amount of trouble; 
for the excellent pastor of the Witness was 
extreme in his views, and my ardent mind was 
but too susceptible. 

Having visited the numerous establishments of 
education hi and near the city, the time of my 
departure approached. It was Saturday ; when a 
son of the family of Pre Beni knocked at the 
door, and kindly inquired after my health. It is 



240 IS IT REBECCA? 

true, I had not been there since my second visit. 
I had not answered the pastor's friendly invitation 
to come and go like one of the family. I had 
followed the advice of wisdom ; I had avoided 
the fascinating influence exerted by the vivid 
expression of heartfelt but exclusive piety ; by 
the magic of wonderful talent, but subservient to 
a onesided view ; by the loveliness of family life 
devoted to the service of God, but only practi- 
cable in the seclusion of Pre Beni. And in this 
I had followed an instinctive dread, a mysterious 
warning. But, when the amiable young man 
pressed an invitation to dinner, I did accept. 

And again I entered the precincts of the 
" Blessed Meadow." I remembered the first 
meeting with the venerable pastor, and the even- 
song. The spot seemed to possess a mysterious 
charm, increased by my- protracted absence. I 
felt as if I came to my own. Thus said my 
heart, whilst my reason kept silence. 

And, when we were seated at the long and neat 
but frugal table, my eye, wandering along the 
line of lovely children, discovered the third 
daughter of the family, who had just returned 
from her trip to Nyon. Unlike her elder sisters, 
Melinda was dark-eyed, and her raven locks 



IS IT REBECCA? 241 

almost hid her beautiful features from my obser- 
vation. She spoke little, and her whole attention 
seemed to be given to her younger sisters. As 
soon as dinner was concluded, she arose, and, 
taking a small basket, went out to visit some poor 
and sick in the neighborhood. 

The pastor and myself went into the garden, 
and sat down in the shade of a beautiful lime-tree. 
He spoke about my work and prospects ; and I 
opened my inmost soul to him, as a son would to 
his father. Perceiving the need which I fe% but 
did not express, of a companion to share my cares 
and prayers and hopes and sorrows, he pressed 
me in his arms with tender affection, and said 
with solemn emphasis, " My brother, on the 
mount of the Lord it shall be provided ; " and I 
left him with the promise of passing with him 
the following evening, the last of my sojourn in 
Geneva. 

That evening, after supper, the dessert was 
brought. It was a plate filled with slips of paper, 
on each of which was written a sentence from 
Scripture ; and, as it passed round, each one took 
his slip, the guests as well as the smallest chil- 
dren; and, in turn, those who were able said 
some words of explanation, or answered some 



242 IS IT REBECCA? 

questions. It was amusing, interesting, and in- 
structive ; chiefly so by the inimitable manner of 
the pastor. Melinda read her sentence: "The 
Lord is thy shield and buckler." They were the 
first words I heard her speak ; and I thought her 
voice was sweet and melodious. 

After this, a tiny box was presented by one of 
the little girls. " This box," said the pastor, 
" goes around every Sunday evening, and each 
one is expected to give something. What is thus 
collected is employed to redeem a slave from the 
market of Cairo, and to give her a Christian edu- 
cation. We have already redeemed one, who is 
now receiving education." 

Thus the evening passed in sweet and useful 
conversation; and towards ten o'clock they all 
arose, and sung, on account of me, the touching 
" chant du depart." The pastor blessed me with 
encouraging and consoling words ; and as, one by 
one, I took leave of all, my eyes for the first time 
met those of Melinda. "Dieu vous benisse /" said 
she in sweet and silvery tones, whilst reaching 
me the hand ; and her eyes seemed to me beam- 
ing with Christian affection. 

The following day, I left Geneva with thankful 
feelings for all the kindness I had received. We 



IS IT REBECCA? 243 

travelled over Lausanne and Neufchatel and Fri- 
bourg to Berne. From there we went to Thun 
and Interlachen ; thence through all the sub- 
lime and sometimes " awful " beauties of the 
Bemer Oberland. We crossed the picturesque 
but sometimes dangerous Waltstatter Sea; and, 
over Lucerne, came to Schaffhausen. There we 
took a carriage to cross the south of Wurtemberg, 
and the gloomy yet interesting region of the 
Black Forest. 

At last we came to Coblentz ; where we waited 
the arrival of Mrs. F., an elderly lady from 
Neufchatel. Strongly recommended by Mr. d'Au- 
bigne, I had engaged her as matron in my insti- 
tute. Her age, her experience and piety, made 
him think that she would be a desirable person 
to fill the place. Though he was, in some mea- 
sure, deceived, and I with him, yet she was kind 
and good. We continued our journey pleasantly, 
descending once more the picturesque Ehine, 
until, at the appointed date, we reached the field 
of our labors. 

But during all the travelling, on Alp and gla- 
cier, on lake and road, in steamer and in swift- 
rolling carriage, the question returned with un- 
ceasing assiduity, Is it Rebecca? 



244 THE DEMAND. 



CHAPTER XXV. 

THE DEMAND. 

I came home with all the vivid remembrances 
of rapid and varied travelling, and with the fra- 
grance, so to say, of Christian life, as seen in 
more than one household of Geneva. But, 
when I entered the large and roomy institute, 
there was no congenial soul to bid me welcome. 
It seemed all cold and dreary. I deeply felt 
that I had no home. I had perceived it before ; 
but it never struck me as now ; when, thought- 
ful, I sat down in my study, a novice in the arts 
of intrigue and calumny, and wondering at the 
wickedness of men. 

For the matron, who, by the arrival of Mrs. 
F., perceived that her rule was at an end, exert- 
ed all her art, and smoothness of tongue, to give 
me blame. Those, too, who had placed her with 
me, took a more or less hostile position; and 
the time which she remained, under color of 



THE DEMAND. 245 

initiating the new matron in her duties, she 
employed in perverting the young Swiss whom 
I had received as an assistant. 

Inexperienced, and with little learning, he had 
come from the Helvetian mountains, and in the 
royal residence was little at ease ; but seeing 
his studious disposition, and aptness to learn, as 
well as a conscientious strictness in the discharge 
of his duties, I had tried to make the best of the 
case. As a brother I treated him, and taught 
him, and provided for him ; and, for the little 
service he could render, I gave him an honorable 
salary. When I returned from his native coun- 
try, I felt still more for him, for I understood 
him better ; and I looked to him, if not as to 
an efficient help, at least as to a friendly com- 
panion, in whom I could place confidence. 

When he saw me on my return, he was glad,, 
as one who wishes to escape a temptation. But,, 
after a few days, he became gloomy and re- 
served ; and, when I kindly pressed him for an 
explanation, he became overbearing, and went 
often to Pastor S. and the counsellor, and finally 
made his stay with me dependent upon such 
excessive demands, that, in conscience, I could 
not accede. 



246 THE DEMAND. 

It was nearly midnight when he claimed " set- 
tlement,'* and declared his intention to leave the 
next morning. I gave all he demanded; and, 
wishing him a better mind, turned to my eldest 
pupil, saying, "What next]" 

He was a youth of seventeen, affectionate, and 
nearly idolizing me ; and he answered, " Pastor 
S. is very wrong." 

From that time I knew that Pastor S. and 
Counsellor G. V. P. were not among my best 
friends. 

There was a great rumor in the city about 
those successive departures; and I could not 
apply to myself the text, " Woe unto you if all 
men shall speak well of you ! " 

But the institute went on steadily and pros- 
perously: for I worked hard, and without ceas- 
ing ; and, leaving some branches to other 
teachers, I kept the most important in my own 
hands. 

Then Lady Marie gave proof of devoted 
friendship ; for my Swiss matron, though zeal- 
ous and attentive, was insufficient for the task of 
directing and governing such a household in a 
country not her own. And, month after month, 
Lady Marie came daily to the " West End" to 



THE DEMAND. 247 

instruct her and guide her. Oh woman's friend- 
ship ! when true, so very true, so very devoted, 
so indefatigable ! 

Why I did not open my heart to her, I do not 
know. Why in this I made a breach of friend- 
ship, I do not know ; unless it be that she had 
been for years my " beau ideal " of woman's 
excellency, and that I was averse to showing 
her^ the glimpse of any. thing approaching her in 
my estimation. 

Whatever it was, I did not speak ; and the 
less I spoke, the more the distant ideal grew in 
brightness, the more my silent yearning took the 
form of real need. With the pastor of the Wit- 
ness I had kept up a regular correspondence ; 
for my heart was knit to his, and with none I 
ever felt such perfect congeniality. In answer 
to one of my letters, he wrote, the 9th of Novem- 
ber, — 

" On your account, O well-beloved ! we have 
no manner of anxiety. Your heart is firm in 
Jesus, and himself will show his deliverance in 
the day of need. He will be your counsellor, 
and, if need be, your comforter, with regard to 
the subject your letter touches. If he wishes your 
solitude to cease, himself will direct you to her 



248 THE DEMAND. 

who has to be your companion in this life. If, 
at that time, there had been occasion for your 
good friend of Geneva to hear all you had 
to tell him, he would have done so, when, 
under the shading garden tree, you opened 
him your heart. But he felt, as he feels at 
this moment, that then he could not do it ; and 
he directed you to the Lord. To leave him 
our future is our true security. Thus I do. I 
wait. 

" You perceive this is a hurried letter. But, 
if to-day I answer you so rapidly, do not think 
that your remembrance is superficial in my fam- 
ily. It is quite the contrary, my well-beloved; 
and your name is never pronounced under my 
roof but with thanksgiving and blessing. 

" It is, therefore, in the life and peace which 
we all have in Jesus, that I send you all my 
love, and that of ours." 

And then I wrote him a letter, wherein I 
opened the inmost wishes of my heart ; and, 
pleading with the earnestness of enthusiasm 
and the peremptory decision of religious persua- 
sion, I said, " O my father ! " (for thus I was 
accustomed to address him,) " give me your third 
daughter, Melinda." 



THE DEMAND. 249 

Thus much I remember having written ; but 
the answer, which I have before me, I know 
better. 

" What a letter, well-beloved ! and what a 
demand ! What prayers needed on both sides, 
and what wisdom, in such circumstances ! 

"You wait for an answer. It is your con- 
scientious advice which I come to ask. Tell 
me, what would you do in the place of a father, 
who, having seen two well-beloved daughters 
leaving his happy home, was called upon to 
separate from a third one, indispensably needed 
for the education of four younger sisters ? What 
would you do, if this daughter declares that she 
cannot leave her family ; that she dreads expa- 
triation ; that she knows, of him who asks her in 
marriage, nothing but what is honorable, yet 
not enough to appreciate his character, views, 
and habits'? What would you do, if the father 
himself was in the dark, in many respects, con- 
cerning the health and resources of him who 
asks him such a gift ? 

" Do you think, my well-beloved, that, with all 
the esteem and Christian affection the father 
had for the friend, he could, as a father, say yes, 
even against the wish of his child ? Not as if 

17 



250 THE DEMAND. 

there were aversion, — far from it; but because 
there might be other thoughts. 

" Judge yourself, and be sincere ; for I ask 
your advice with the same frankness wherewith 
you have written me. Both you and I are before 
God." 

To this letter I did not answer rightly ; for I 
was under the influence of a " fixed idea." Thus 
it seems now to me. Ten days thereafter, I 
received the following : — 

" Well-beloved, what a sadness in that poor 
half-sheet, written in haste and with bitterness ! 
I had consulted you in all sincerity ; and when 
asking you, ' What would you do in my place 1 ' I 
expected the cordial and detailed answer of your 
affection. In its stead I receive a deep lamen- 
tation ; and you see nothing but a refusal, where, 
in truth, was nothing but a doubt, an uncertainty, 
in which I appealed to your own prudence. 

" If Rebecca was consulted when it was pro- 
posed to her to be the wife of Isaac, and if it 
was she who had to answer, ' / will go,' what 
could the father of this dear and precious daugh- 
ter do, when you said, c Give her to me ' % What 
could he do but say to her, ' Wilt thou leave us 
to unite thyself to this friend ? ' 



THE DEMAND. 251 

" And what if my daughter answers, ' I have 
the greatest esteem for him by what you say of 
him ; but I do not know him : I have never 
spoken to him. I am ignorant of his character 
and habits ; and I am so happy with you, that it 
will be very difficult for me to exchange this 
happy fate for any other. But if he comes 
again to Geneva, and visits our family, then he 
will be known more fully; and then also the Lord 
will show if his request must be acceded to.' 

" If such is the answer of my daughter (a 
wise and scriptural answer), what shall her 
father do ? What can he do but explain the 
position to his friend, and say, 'What do you 
think of it?' 

" I am sure, then, well-beloved, that you have 
misunderstood my letter. I hold me still before 
the Lord. I wait his decision. Weigh these 
things ; and do not say that there is a refusal, 
when there is only ignorance of the will of our 
heavenly Father." 

Thus he wrote in sweet and affectionate 
language, and my heart was at ease. With 
renewed vigor, I attended to the increasing 
numbers of my pupils. And on the fourth day 
of February, 1839, I held a second examination, 



252 THE DEMAND. 

which was more largely attended than the first, 
and brought me more honor and credit : for 
my older classes readily wrote a Latin compo- 
sition, and were well advanced in their mathe- 
matical studies ; and my younger classes, after a 
half-year's study in Greek, astonished learned 
men there present by reading and translating 
the Greek Testament. The praise and en- 
couragement which I received stimulated me 
to greater exertion. My occupation was inces- 
sant; and living, as I did, with my pupils, I did 
not find the time for recruiting. Many were 
the warnings given me by kind and affectionate 
friendship ; but I heeded them not, feeling alto- 
gether u too secure " in my honest intention. 
But in the latter days of March, a season harsh 
and inclement, I felt my strength diminishing : 
yet I heeded it not ; and, after the usual morn- 
ing lessons, I made a long walk by the sea- 
shore. On my return, I sat down, surrounded 
by my eldest pupils, and explained to them (I 
remember it well) a lesson in Euripides ; when 
all at once my eyes grew dim, and, sinking from 
my chair, exhausted nature gave way. 

During many days, a raging fever consumed 
me. My wandering mind dwelt constantly upon 



THE DEMAND. 253 

my pupils, and Charles was first in my imagina- 
tion ; next came William T. ; next, others in 
succession. But all my ravings, strange to say, 
I remember yet. And my pupils' anxious in- 
quiries, and the parents' sorrowful visits, the 
doubts expressed by physicians, I confusedly 
remember, as well as the workings of my own 
spirit, seemingly fluttering on the confines of 
eternity. 



254 THE FLIGHT TO TARSHISH. 



CHAPTER XXVI. 



THE FLIGHT TO TARSHISH. 



When the crisis was passed, and reason returned, 
Lady Marie was at my bedside. There she had 
been from the beginning, watching and attending 
to my wants, and, in my extensive household, 
directing and governing, so that each one should 
do his duty ; for my Swiss matron, though good 
and kind, was inefficient. 

Twenty years have rolled by, and Lady Marie 
will never read these lines ; but, if she does, 
they cannot convey to her the hundredth part of 
what I feel when remembering those days of lan- 
guor, in which I beheld her like a guardian angel 
moving and stirring about, and with characteristic 
energy encouraging my amazed soul. 

For, when the fever had left me, I began to 
realize my position ; and, with the ardor of youth 
and mental force, I called together my pupils, and 
opened the school with prayer, as was my cus- 
tom. 



THE FLIGHT TO TARSHISH. 255 

But I sank down in utter prostration ; and 
though weeping with impatience, I must confess 
it, I had to resign myself to the sick-room. 

And then, having regained strength sufficient, 
I went with a faithful servant to the pleasant 
environs of Z., where the Moravian brethren 
have a large community. 

It was in the first days of the beautiful month 
of May, when, in those climes, the leaves begin to 
sprout, and Nature presents the image of a true, 
a blessed resurrection. 

Frequently, towards dusk, I walked slowly to 
the Moravian church, and enjoyed their simple 
worship, their short but Heaven-speeding prayers. 

And once, on my return, I met, at a distance, 
the Swiss assistant who so ill repaid my care and 
kindness. His heart smote him when he saw my 
feeble state ; for he turned aside. But the same 
evening he called on me ; and then he confessed his 
wrong, and, as I knew before, brought it home to 
the evil influence exerted upon him by the former 
matron. I forgave him freely, and rejoiced to see 
him occupy an honorable position in one of the 
Moravian schools. 

During a fortnight, I gathered strength, and 
then returned to H. with the hope of being able 



256 THE FLIGHT TO TARSHISH. 

to resume my labors. But, the very first morning, 
I had to give it up ; and the physician now inter- 
fered, and said that further attempts would en- 
danger my life, and that forty days at least of rest 
were necessary to recover from utter prostration. 

The summer-vacation of six weeks was ad- 
vanced ; and, on the first day of June, I was on 
the steamer to Bonn : for there I would rest, 
and find medical advice and kindly friends. 

An entire change of air and scenery restored 
my energies much sooner than was anticipated ; 
and in Bonn I found my excellent friends the 
Thormanns, and passed many pleasant days with 
them. But my heart was restless ; for to no one 
had I breathed the indirect obligation I was under 
of going to Switzerland ; and, at first, the state of 
my health seemed to make such a voyage impos- 
sible : so that it was with difficulty that I obtained 
the physician's consent to go to Frankfort, where 
I had an appointment with a German teacher 
recommended to me by the Thormanns. 

I engaged him, and was on my way to take my 
passage in the stage, which in four days and 
nights would take me to Basel. 

What was it, then, which made me doubt ? for 
I returned, and passed the night in suspense. 



THE FLIGHT TO TARSHISH. 257 

Did I not ask her ? Was I not told to come and 
see ? My heart's impulse, stimulated by the fever- 
ish activity of an overworked brain, drove me to 
go on, backed, as it were, by a religious enthu- 
siasm which I mistook for faith. My reason, 
strong enough when left alone, blew the bub- 
bles of my imagination to nothing, and showed 
me the folly of persevering in what seemed, 
after all, the mere impression of a moment, 
nourished and strengthened by the illusions of 
distance. 

Thus it seems now to me. Or is it that the 
human mind has a mysterious power of forebod- 
ing evil? Or is it that there are guardian spirits 
who give us warning, and kindly influence us to 
abstain from what may do us harm ? 

I really do not know ; but well do I remember 
the secret anguish of my foolish heart, and how 
it w T as a battle-field of conflicting powers, the one 
urging on, the other warning back. 

The first, for a time, gamed the victory ; and 
from Frankfort I took the stage to Mentz, and 
thence the steamer to Manheim. But there, in 
the sober thoughts of night, a dread came over 
me ; and, the following morning, I returned to 
Mentz. On the steamer, surrounded by gay com- 



258 THE FLIGHT TO TARSHISH. 

panions, who little knew what conflict was bat- 
tling in my bosom, I poured out my doubts and 
fears, my wishes and hesitations, in a letter 
to the pastor of the Witness. This letter I mailed 
at Mentz, and continued my downward course to 
Bonn. 

And to this letter the pastor answered : — 
"Yes, O man of little faith! you have feared 
to know what God wishes of you and for you, 
and you ' have fled to Tarshish.' Your letter is 
full of trouble ; and yet how deeply it has touched 
me ! You suffer, and even much : is not this 
enough to make me suffer too ? Could I write at 
large (which my trembling and nervous hand for- 
bids), I would tell you how inconsistent you are 
with your owh desire. For how will you live, if 
this state of uncertainty is prolonged ? and how 
can it cease, if you prevent its ending ? Absent, 
you remain unknown ; and, unknown, you can 
neither be refused, which might be unjust, and 
contrary to the will of God ; nor can you be ac- 
cepted, which might be imprudent and hazardous. 
Judge, then, of your course. 

" And judge also of my position. On one side, 
it is your friend, your good friend, who sees 
your weakness, and is obliged to say, ' Why not 



THE FLIGHT TO TARSHISH. 259 

know decidedly what is the will of God \ Why 
fear this interview ? Whatever may be the issue, 
it must be his good pleasure.' 

" On the other side, it is a father, and a father 
who respects the feelings of his child, and will 
not and ought not to presume, nor to provoke 
any determination. This father, however, believes 
to have shown enough what his own heart thinks, 
nay, what it wishes ; for this father looks to 
Christ, and not to earthly treasures. 

"This letter is hurried. Yours came yesterday. 
When will this one reach you ? " 

It reached me many, many weeks thereafter, 
when I came home ; for on the same day that he 
penned those pressing lines, so full of heart and 
sense, I had taken my passage on the stage 
through from Bonn to Lausanne. 

And there I arrived after six days' travel night 
and day. I rested one day ; for my mind and 
body were fatigued. I engaged another assistant, 
who was recommended to me by the venerable 
d'Aubigne. 

The following day, I was on the steamboat to 
Geneva, where I arrived in the afternoon, and 
directed my steps once more to Pre Beni ; and, 
when I met the venerable pastor, like a father 



260 THE FLIGHT TO TARSHISH. 

he embraced me with the affection of Christian 
love. 

" Have you received my letter? " was the first 
thing he said. 

When he understood I had not, he was glad. 
He took me into his hermitage, which was his 
study, a cheerful little building in a remote corner 
of the garden. There, kneeling down, he prayed 
with me, as was his custom; and his prayer I 
remember, because he spoke to Him as present, 
not far off. Then he arose, and, folding me in 
his arms, he said, " I am glad ; " and holding me 
at a distance, his beaming eye fixed on mine, he 
said, " You look tired and care-worn. Go to our 
neighbor, the excellent Miss C. ; rest yourself, 
and speak to her as you would to us. I go to 
fetch my wife, who is on a visit to her parents. 
Then come, and partake of our supper." 

I found in Miss C. an elderly lady, fondly at- 
tached to the pastor's family, and combining with 
great loveliness of disposition a sound and practi- 
cal sense. 

" Melinda," she said, " has always evinced a 
great aversion to marriage. Four times she has 
been asked by parties honorable and acceptable 
in every sense ; but four times she has refused. 



THE FLIGHT TO TARSHISH. 261 

Home is her all ; Switzerland is her all. But she 
gives better reasons than these. Her two elder 
sisters are married far off, one in Scotland, one in 
France. Her younger sisters look up to her for 
guidance and instruction ; and, with her mother's 
feeble state of health, she verily thinks her place 
to be at home. This is against you. But in your 
favor is the desire of her mother, who seems to 
love you as one who might be her son ; and the 
wish of her father, who considers you as a son, 
whether you marry his daughter or not. Truly, 
you have more advantages than any of your pre- 
decessors ; for you left a favorable impression 
during your last visit. And, if you gain this prize, 
I shall be glad for you, and not less for her whom I 
really do love ; for my opinion of you is founded 
not only upon excellent reports, but also upon 
pleasant personal acquaintance." 

Thus she dismissed me with kind and encou- 
raging words ; for the time of my visit to Pre Beni 
approached. And, commending my case to her 
friendly protection, I left, and entered the gate of 
the " Blessed Meadow." 

The venerable mother received me with the 
simplicity of Christian love ; with the dignity 
of a mother who has a treasure to bestow, she 



262 THE FLIGHT TO TARSHISH. 

received me. The moments were few ; but the 
words were full and pregnant. I remember them 
all ; but best when she said, " If you become our 
son" This made a mark, which, to this day, 
is not effaced ; for, truly, I am their son, through 
the love of Him who lives in them and me. 

When the folding-door was opened, Melinda 
stood surrounded by a throng of sisters. Lovely 
children they were ; as it seemed to me, from the 
age of eight to sixteen ; and with worshipful love 
they looked up to Melinda, — since the depart- 
ure of the two eldest, their guide and instruc- 
tress. Some of the youngest sisters are now 
married, and have crossed the ocean to follow 
their " ministering " husbands. 

What we both said, I remember ; for in both 
of us the same spirit was alive : it was a spirit of 
reverence, a dread of presuming and forestalling 
the providence of God. 

When the even-song was finished, and the pas- 
tor had commended all, and not least the stranger 
and his desire, in a prayer warm and glowing 
with love, he said, " Leno " (and I remember the 
tremor which ran through me when hearing my- 
self thus addressed), — " Leno, during the shades 
of night, you cannot stay with us ; but, when the 



THE FLIGHT TO TARSHISH. 263 

sun returns, come to the ' Blessed Meadow,' and 
pray with us, and remain with us, as if you were 
at home." 

That night the moon was nearly full, and its 
soft light oversilvered the beautiful Leman. From 
my window in the Hotel des Bergues, I saw the 
water balancing in the cooling night-breeze, and 
rocking the graceful crafts and sailing-boats to 
and fro ; and, far in the distance, the vine-clad 
shores were sparkling with hundreds of lights in 
as many scattered and peaceful dwellings ; and 
above me the sky was blue as the waters of the 
lake, seemingly transparent like a crystalline 
vault ; and around me I heard the subdued buzz- 
ing of the many voices of a populous city. It 
was a scene of quiet, domestic grandeur. My 
thoughts went back to the North, — to the stately 
residence, to the West End, to the Institute, to 
the classroom ; and shutting the window, and 
preparing for much-needed repose, I thought, " A 
beautiful home ! and such a family ! — such a fa- 
ther, such a mother, such lovely sisters ! Truly, 
the will of God shall be done." 

During three days, I had been the familiar 
guest in the pastor's family ; and many had been 
our conversations, and sweet and instructive the 



264 THE FLIGHT TO TARSHISH. , 

intercourse with the pastor ; and my views on 
many points took a more decided, a too decided 
color. But on the fourth day, in the morning, 
she sat down in the shade of a beautiful chestnut- 
grove, and said with a smile of satisfaction, " I 
have good news for you: you may hope." 

What I thought or said or did, I very well 
remember ; but as then I reverenced her, so do I 
now. 

" My friends," she said, " wish me to decide 
this week ; but I think it worthier of you and of 
me, and more regardful of God, that, having said 
thus much, I should wait at least four weeks for 
my decision." 

"You are a lucky wight," said Miss C, when 
I stormed into her room to carry the joyful tid- 
ings. " I knew it all : you certainly did not lose 
your time ! " 

After that, I tarried four days longer; and 
having made my peace with the sisters, who 
grieved at their impending loss, I went the last 
morning to take my leave. For each one I had 
a little present to remember me ; for Melinda I 
had none. But I dropped a few pieces of gold 
in her purse for the poor : this was my gift. She 
was free to thank me for it ; and so she did. 



THE FLIGHT TO TARSHISH. 265 

Then the pastor summoned us to his hermit- 
age, where we found the venerable mother; and 
with pious words the parents confirmed their gift, 
should Melinda's decision agree. Then, kneeling 
down, he commended me to the care of Him who 
brought me there ; and when I had taken leave 
from the daughter, and received the mother's 
blessing, he accompanied me to the gate. With 
fond affection he pressed me to his heart, and 
said in his playful manner, " Though you rob me, 
I send you away with my blessing ; " and his 
beaming eye followed me long on the road to the 
steamer. 

It carried me down to Lausanne. From there 
I took the stage to Basel, the old and venerable 
theatre of Erasmus's learning ; and the rest of the 
journey home was made by steamer, swiftly glid- 
ing down the Rhine, until at R. I landed ; and, 
within a few hours' time, I was at West-End 
Institute. 



18 



266 DECISION. 



CHAPTER XXVIL 

DECISION. 

The evening of my arrival, I sat in my beautiful 
garden-room. It was, as it were, the family 
room, where we gathered morning and evening ; 
where my pupils were at home; where visitors 
entered freely ; where I could see the boys play- 
ing, sauntering, and running, in the play-grounds. 
My good old matron sat opposite at a small tea- 
table. It was the only semblance of family-life 
which I could muster ; but, as it was, I remem- 
ber it with pleasure. I was tired of travelling, 
but did not feel fatigue ; for I spoke to her of 
Geneva and the " Blessed Meadow " and my 
happy prospects. 

As I said before, she was good and kind, and 
loved me with motherly affection ; and she 
listened with pleasure to the overrunning fulness 
of my heart. The first who with joyful steps 
sprang into the room and on my knees, and hung 
on my neck, was William T., the one whom I 
loved best, because, through the severity of the 



DECISION. 267 

chastening rod, he had found the well-spring of 
my heart. He was amazed at my appearance, 
so strong and healthy, so flushed with hopeful 
energy. Alas, dear boy ! he did not know that 
for me had come the time of severe correction, — 
the time wherein / had to learn to love through 
the clouds of doubt and grief. 

Soon the house began to fill ; and my newly 
engaged teachers arrived, both men of solid learn- 
ing, and the institute assumed a form of complete- 
ness and thoroughness which made it a pleasure 
to teach ; and, by the increasing numbers, it would 
seem a pleasure to be taught. But when, after 
the first morning lessons, I entered my study, my 
eye glanced over the writing-desk, hoping to dis- 
cover among the many letters which the mail had 
brought the peculiar form and stamp of Geneva 
tidings ; for the time approached wherein, my 
heart would be fully set at rest in a matter which 
now pre-occupied me with impetuous desire. 

But as, in the calm of a summer-day, a few 
small clouds prognosticate the coming storm ; so, 
from time to time, a letter from the pastor, or one 
from an intimate friend of Melinda, foreboded 
coming disappointment ; and, on the 14th of Au- 
gust, the pastor wrote me from Tubingen : — 



268 DECISION. 

"Well-beloved, I have received the letter, 
wherein you express your fear, and in the same 
time your resignation to the will of God. Is 
there a better peace than this ? Were he not our 
stay and guide, how could we, without constant 
agony, pass through life ] I suffer with you, for 
your pain is great ; and with you I wait for that 
which God, yea, God himself, will order. For 
listen. 

" I left Geneva on the 5 th ; and on the city 
bridge I met the carrier of the mail, who put in 
my hands a letter, which on the road I opened. 
It is from a young minister of God, a friend of 
our family, who asks me the hand of Melinda. 

" I have kept this from her and from her 
mother. I shall do so until I know what God 
decides concerning my daughter. Not as if I 
thought that she would accept this proposal : I 
believe the contrary. But we must leave to God 
all his right ; and as you, well-beloved, would not 
have a wife whom God himself did not give, so 
do I fear lest my daughter's decision be affected 
one way or the other, should I reveal to her this 
new demand. But you can judge of my position, 
and how entirely I must depend upon God, as- 
sured that he will dispense to me, to you, to all, 



DECISION. 269 

that which tends to our real peace, and to his 
glory in the midst of his children. I have no 
other expectation, no other right. 

" And such is yours. With the Almighty you 
have to do. He is your Father : what should you 
fear? 

" Peace, then, and prayer, until the issue. I 
wait it; and so do you, whilst our adorable 
Saviour teaches you patience." 

Thus wrote the pious father of that God-fear- 
ing maiden, who in prayer and anxiety sought for 
love sufficiently strong to break the bonds of 
home and parents' care and sisters' affection, and 
to follow the stranger in the North, and there 
with him to labor. 

" None she loves as well as you : " thus wrote 
her friend, the lovely Loise. " Your pious tender- 
ness and affectionate regard have made a deep 
impression on her appreciating heart. But her 
parents and sisters draw her affections ; and, 
never inclined to marriage, she desires, however, 
to do the will of God. Do not press a decision 
at the appointed time ; for I fear it might be 
unfavorable : wait, and be patient." 

But I, with impetuous desire, and unable to 
bear up against longer suspense, wrote to Melinda 



270 DECISION. 

words of urging tenderness, with passionate appeal 
to the past, and foreshadowing my dreary future. 
And to this she answered, humbling herself if 
there was any fault of hers, and deeply lamenting 
the pain she caused, but confessing, that, after 
prayer and supplication, she did not hear a voice 
strong enough to go, whilst so many duties and 
sacred affections told her to stay. 

And though, after this, Loise wrote that Me- 
linda had refused the French minister, and ad- 
vised me to hope and wait; and though the 
venerable mother, with pious tenderness loving 
me, and perceiving the depth of my affection, 
suggested, long thereafter, the feasibility of re- 
moving my institute to Switzerland, — from the 
day that my eyes gazed long and steadily at this 
letter of the pious maiden, I saw and felt that 
God had decided. 

To this day, Melinda is with her aged parents, 
a monument of filial piety ; and in my heart she 
is enshrined as one whom once I loved more 
than I ought, till, knowing the will of God, the 
stormy waves of my affection, which flooded my 
heart, were made to run in the deep and purer 
channel of Christian charity. 

Thus I have, O Source of my life ! remembered 



DECISION. 271 

her whom thou allowedst me to meet and know, 
yet not to call my own. Why thou didst so, I 
have often inquired : for, in that time, a cloudy 
mist seemed to cover the canopy of heaven ; and, 
in the agony of my soul, I could not discern the 
brightness of the sun, but only saw the glimmer- 
ings of light, — enough to know that thou wast 
present. Still, why thou shouldst thus allow 
thy servant to be afflicted, I wished to know. 
Why didst thou allow me to meet her and to 
love her ? and, when loving her, why didst thou 
forbid me to love % Thou knowest, I asked thee 
often in those times. But thou didst not answer 
me ; and, forsooth, I would not have understood 
thee ; but, since, thy Holy Spirit has taught me, 
when length of time, and course of circumstances, 
made it clear. 

I had loved others before, but none like her. 
I had loved others for their beauty, their loveli- 
ness, their talents, their worth, approaching more 
or less to my ideal of woman's excellency. I 
had loved them ; and loved them less, or ceased 
to love, when I found them deficient. But I 
never loved one as a child of God, whom I could 
receive from him as a gift for all eternity. Thus 
I loved her. And, when the gift was denied, I 



272 DECISION. 

suffered for the time : for the wound was deep ; 
and, even when it ceased bleeding, there remained 
a painful gap. But no one could fill it but a 
child of God ; no one but whom I could ask and 
receive from him as a gift for all eternity. And 
thus, for several years, I was kept from seeking 
a less excellent one ; and, in the midst of many 
occasions, I was enabled to wait until He who 
made the wound applied " the balm of Gilead." 
Thus it now seems to me. 

And my heart, opened for a time to all the 
bewitching influences of chaste and pure affec- 
tion, was throbbing with delight, and loved Thee 
in the gift expected ; but, when the gift was 
withheld, it shrank with terrible revulsion. Yet 
love it must ; and, after the first bitterness of that 
medicine, it sought relief in the very Source of 
love. I then began to dive deeper into that 
ocean of Thy wonders, as revealed in Thy holy 
Word ; and the study of theology and the gos- 
pel ministry became the subjects of my constant 
meditation. 

But, from my intimacy with the pastor of the 
Witness, I had, with the enthusiasm of youthful 
ardor and sincere belief, imbibed a tendency too 
exclusive for the time and place wherein my lot 



DECISION. 273 

was cast. His motto was, " Separation from the 
world, without compromise." He carried it out 
to its full extent ; and with his numerous family, 
and many admirers in all quarters of the globe, 
he had stood erect, notwithstanding the dreary 
loneliness which by degrees had formed itself 
around him. 

To separate from the world was to separate 
from Pastor S. and the counsellor and the whole 
aristocratic circle of believers ; for they all, and 
wisely, remained within the pale of the national 
church. It was an unwise step ; for it caused 
me to be blamed by all, by the devout as well as 
by the worldly-minded. 

And I am astonished that the prosperity of 
the institute was not affected by this measure, 
unnecessary and premature. It was not. The 
confidence of men remained unshaken, notwith- 
standing the rumors caused by envy and malice. 
It must be, that the honesty of my purpose 
created respect, and took partly away the " savor 
of bitterness " which follows all separation, — the 
well-deserved wages of " heresy and schism." 
For it is not by " separating from the world " 
that the children of Truth will better preserve 
the truth " which worketh by love ; " but it is by 



274 DECISION. 

" living in " the world, and " bearing " with it and 
" sympathizing " with it, that they must " take up 
the cross," and follow Him who was " in the 
world, yet not of the world." 

But this I did not understand ; and, with the 
best intentions and the purest motive, I erred 
grievously. 

When the Christmas - days approached, one 
morning the mail brought me a letter with 
superscription in a to me unknown writing. It 
was from Adelaide ! The very name sent a 
thrill through my heart. It replaced me at once 
in the lovely garden at L. with my father and 
Mrs. R. and those sweet affectionate children. 
It seemed as if the fragrance of their innocence 
surrounded me again; and the charm of their 
natural, unselfish love soothed the more or less 
bitter feelings awakened by six years' contact with 
the world. I stood entranced, — my eye resting 
on the name, and glistening with emotion. 

" Her mother was ill, very ill ; beyond recovery. 
For many, many weeks, she had been watching 
her ; and, if I could come and see her, it would 
be a consolation." 

Folding the letter, I took my hat and cloak, 
and with hurried steps went to the stage-office. 



DECISION. 275 

I was just in time. The passengers were taking 
their seats ; and, having pencilled on my card a 
line to Mrs. F. to inform her of my departure 
and probable absence for a few days, I was soon 
on my way to A — m. 



276 ADELAIDE. 



CHAPTER XXVIII. 



ADELAIDE. 



It was dark when I entered the populous metro- 
polis, with its long and busy streets, its gas-lit 
stores, its throng of public and private carriages 
hastening to balls or concerts and theatres ; and 
I wound my way through many a street, until I 
reached the dwelling of the venerable Mrs. R. 

At once I walked up stairs ; and, in the front- 
room, a maiden stood mixing a relieving draught. 
Tall and graceful, the silky hair waving in long 
ringlets over her shoulders, the eye-lash shading 
two orbs full of devoted love, but dim with sorrow 
and anxious care, whilst the bloom of health 
seemed struggling on her feverish cheeks, — thus 
she stood in the silence of night, a very picture 
of holy innocence, watching the call of her mo- 
ther. And I heard the faintest whisper proceed- 
ing from the couch of sickness ; and the maiden 
went in with the cup of relief. 



ADELAIDE. 277 

I stood amazed. Was this the child of ten 
years, whom so often I had fondled and petted 
and reproved ? Whilst I was recalling the sweet 
memory of times past, she returned, and beheld 
me wrapped in my cloak ; and, her eyes beaming 
with pleasure, she exclaimed, "Mr. Leno ! " and, 
throwing her arms round my neck, she wept 
tears of joy and sadness. 

What I felt, I cannot say, because I do not 
know. It was the sweet recollection of my early 
youth, with children's play and fondness, and my 
aged father's humble contentment ; and now the 
playful, sometimes wayward child had grown to 
a blooming maiden, fragrant with the perfume of 
chastity and innocence. She loved me as the 
friend of her childhood, she reverenced me as 
the protector of her sweet and talented sister; 
and my heart, which had seen so much excellence 
in woman's nature, which had for years admired 
in respectful silence the golden virtues of Lady 
Marie, and for a season revelled, as it were, in the 
affection of Melinda, — my heart, warm and glow- 
ing with the fire of sympathy, opened, and, in its 
quivering folds, received the lovely Adelaide. 

Thus it was. For I have sought, O Source of 
my life ! the beginnings of that deep affection 



278 ADELAIDE. 

which I conceived for her whom thou gavest me 
for all eternity. I have asked, whether it was the 
sweet remembrance of blooming childhood, or 
the loveliness of chaste and pure virginity ; but I 
have not found the answer there. Thou hadst 
prepared her for me ; but I knew it not. For 
until thou hadst manifested thyself to her, and, 
through her, hadst sent me words of hope and love, 
I could not think she was the one whom thou 
hadst destined to be my help and aid in this 
earthly life, and my sweetest companion in the 
realms of eternity. 

Having given our tribute to the memories of 
the past, and to the sad occasion which brought 
us again together, she led me to the sick-bed of 
her mother, which was to be her dying-bed. Thin 
and feeble with slow-consuming fever, she reached 
me her hand, and spoke of the pleasure my visit 
gave, and of the hope she humbly entertained of 
being soon released of this earthly life. Yet her 
two youngest daughters, so sweet and lovely, but 
so young, gave her a deep concern. The elder, 
once my favored pupil, was safe in an honorable 
and useful position : but the younger, gifted above 
many, was near her heart ; and she commended 
her with anxious care to my protection. 



ADELAIDE. 279 

Two days I passed there ; and I saw Eleonore, 
and wondered how God had made the seeds to 
prosper, which in early days, with tender care, I 
had deposited in her favored mind. The two sis- 
ters clung with the affection of old to the friend 
of their childhood; but Eleonore was soon recalled 
to her duties in another city, and Adelaide re- 
mained alone with the sweet but heavy burden of 
attending her venerable mother. Sixteen weeks 
she staid with her, night and day, — sixteen 
weeks of hope and anguish, of grief and consola- 
tion; until, in the month of March, she closed her 
mother's eyes, and was an orphan. 

She was not without protection in the great 
metropolis ; for an uncle of her mother, a wealthy 
merchant, became her guardian. He was kind to 
her, though uncongenial in taste and habits : for 
he was worldly, as were those around him ; and I 
was anxious, perhaps beyond necessity. The 
Countess Dowager V. L. S., the mother of my 
dear William T., loved the maiden by what she 
knew of her ; and, with her uncle's leave, she 
went to her, and staid, like a daughter with a 
mother, loving and beloved. But, towards the 
end of the year, she went to France, where, at 
the Protestant Normal Institute at L., she enjoyed 



280 ADELAIDE. 

the privilege of an extensive Christian instruction. 
Thus thou didst, O merciful God! prepare thy 
gift. And I knew it not ; for though her letters 
to the countess were frequent, and full of affec- 
tion, yet what thou wast performing by degrees 
in her truth-loving heart, I did not know until 
the appointed time. 

During the first part of 1840, the Institute 
grew in name and solidity. If it seems strange 
to say this so often, it must be remembered that 
things go slowly in that country. Confidence is 
not easily gained ; but, once acquired, is not easily 
lost : and to nothing I look back with more satis- 
faction than to the honorable appreciation thus 
gained by degrees, and, during years, preserved, 
notwithstanding obloquy, malice, and envy. 

Towards the end of June, a third examination 
proved to parents and friends that my theory of 
simultaneous instruction in ancient and modern 
languages, in all the branches of mathematical 
and physical sciences, in the arts of music and 
design, was more than a vain speculation ; and 
that the whole was pervaded with a Christian ten- 
dency, at once elevating and truly refining. My 
work was complete ; and with satisfaction I be- 
hold, even now, the programme of the seven 



ADELAIDE. 281 

hours' examination, as held on the 25th of June. 
None of my pupils then was older than sixteen 
years : but, in mathematics, they stood a thorough 
examination in conical sections and higher equa- 
tions ; they translated the Greek of Demosthenes, 
Homer, and Euripides, into Latin ; and, in Latin, 
they readily explained Livy, Cicero, Virgil, and 
Horace ; whilst, in the presence of all, they wrote 
compositions in Latin, German, French, and Eng- 
lish, on subjects given by the audience. 

During the vacation, I made a journey through 
Belgium, with an especial regard to the paintings 
wherewith its churches abound. I saw many 
places where my ancestors had lived and worked ; 
and I was amazed at the rapid development of 
industry visible in all the parts of the Belgian 
kingdom since the separation from the unconge- 
nial dominion of Holland. The whole country 
was covered with a network of railroads, of which 
the safety and rapidity are unsurpassed. Cities, 
populous and picturesque, were spread every- 
where at short distances. I saw agriculture 
brought to perfection, and the whole kingdom 
presenting the appearance of a well-cultivated 
garden, with pleasant variety of meadows, corn- 
fields, orchards, woods, and forests, and, near the 

19 



282 ADELAIDE. 

Meuse and Moselle, extensive vineyards. The 
country was dotted over, as it were, with ancient 
seats and castles of illustrious families. The pop- 
ulation was honest and industrious, attached to 
the religion of their forefathers. The Walloon 
provinces were especially remarkable for urbanity 
of manners and sociable politeness. Three uni- 
versities were in prosperity, famed for their lite- 
rary and scientific celebrities. Public instruction 
was cared for by a paternal government, and 
schools of industry, arts, and design, established 
everywhere. There was a general enthusiasm 
for music, and scarcely a town or city without 
its harmonic society. Annual competitions, and 
games of various kinds, reminded one of classic 
Greece. All these things struck me ; for I was 
an attentive observer. I ceased to wonder that 
the fair provinces of Belgium were considered a 
jewel in the mighty Emperor Charles's crown ; 
and the convulsive grasp of William to retain 
these dominions, I could appreciate. 

Through the Forest of the Ardennes, I tra- 
velled to Spa, once the rendezvous of European 
diplomacy, where many sovereigns, from Peter 
the Great to Philip of Orleans, left traces of 
their sojourn. And there I made the acquaint- 



ADELAIDE. 283 

ance of the Viscount d'Arlincourt, that cele- 
brated novelist of France, who, even in his tales 
of fiction, dreamed of Bourbon legitimacy and 
the divine right of kings. He was an invalid, 
and seemed to avoid all human intercourse ; liv- 
ing as a hermit near the Gironstere, one of the 
most beneficent fountains. 

Directed by my physician to the same source 
of health, I succeeded in approaching the eccen- 
tric man of letters. 

But a better acquaintance I made there : for, 
accidentally, I found the volumes of Fenelon's 
Correspondence ; and I remember that they ex- 
erted a great influence upon my tendencies. The 
sweet and learned Fenelon, with his deep and 
spiritual views, became not only my favorite au- 
thor, but strengthened the secret wish of becom- 
ing a preacher of the gospel, a comforter of 
wearied souls. He opened to my view the in- 
most springs of human nature ; he showed me a 
wider field of usefulness than school or college or 
university. Day after day, I read these volumes 
in the sweet retreats of the Gironstere ; and I 
began to say, " If I cannot preach as Fenelon, 
I can feel as he, and advise and console, and dis- 
pense the ' balm of Gilead.' " 



284 ADELAIDE. 

With these impressions, I returned to H., and 
once more opened lessons at the Institute. My 
time was divided between scholastic duties and 
theological studies ; for to be a minister of the 
gospel had become my aim. To the pastor of 
the Witness I had written ; and, with his sound 
and positive sense, he said, — 

"Your work is a mission; for, to spread the 
gospel among the ' mighty,' is it not a mission % 
What work can be more useful and more accept- 
able? And your house is a temple; for there 
you minister to the wants of those who may 
become heads of families. What service can be 
more to the honor of God ? 

" But, if your heart desires the ministry, 
study; and, having studied, go to Scotland, and 
receive the imposition of hands, and act as a 
minister of God." 

Thus he wrote, and thus I labored ; when, on 
the second day of December, I received notice 
from high authority to close the Institute ! 

For, on that day, King William solemnly 
abdicated in favor of his son, once the chivalrous 
Prince of Orange ; and with him I lost the royal 
protection. The long -compressed enmity of 
worldly-minded, power-loving magistrates could 



ADELAIDE. 285 

not wait one day ; and, with retiring royalty, 
West-End Institute had to fall. 

But the anxiety of parents was great : and on 
their account, with soured heart, I went to the 
director of police ; for there I had to bring the 
sacred cause of Christian education. To him I 
went, and asked for time until I had addressed 
the royal majesty. He was a man of honor, 
who esteemed me and my work ; and, though his 
instructions were peremptory, he took upon him- 
self the responsibility of delaying extreme mea- 
sures. And I went farther. I humbled myself 
even to go to the city authorities, and there to 
ask the boon of existence until the king's will 
should decide. With the bitter smile of victory, 
it was conceded ; and forthwith I penned a re- 
quest, of which I have the copy before me. 

With the consciousness of birth and high 
attainments, I approached his majesty, and laid 
before him my four years' successful work, the 
approval of so many noble families, but most 
that of his own illustrious father. " Accomplish," 
I said, " the work begun by him, and allow me, 
by decree, permission to continue my Institute 
here, or in any other place of your dominions. 
Protect with your especial authority an establish- 



286 ADELAIDE. 

ment which always, but more so in these times, 
deserves your attention, — an establishment 
wherein the sons of nobility are trained in the 
wide range of science, civil and political ; where- 
in loyal affection for your illustrious dynasty is 
fostered, and the principles of enlightened Chris- 
tianity are inculcated, teaching to ' love God 
above all things,' and to 'honor the king/" 

This document was placed in the hands of the 
chief-chamberlain, Count V. L. S. But day fol- 
lowed day, and week succeeded week, without a 
royal response ; for the days of the venerable 
William were gone, and royalty was no more 
approachable. 



REBECCA. 287 



CHAPTER XXIX. 

REBECCA. 

Thus I passed the winter from 1840 to 1841 in 
suspense and humbling uncertainty ; waiting 
in vain for the favorable decision of a monarch 
whose profligacy I detested, and whom personally 
to approach I would have disdained. The work 
for which I had sacrificed the prospects of youth, 
and the first energies of undeceived enthusiasm, 
the work which had assumed a solid form and 
comely appearance, began to be tinged with the 
withering influence of uncertainty. The Insti- 
tute, where nobility was trained in the highest 
branches of science and carefully nurtured in 
the fear of God, was dependent for its existence 
on the whim and caprice of paltry city authori- 
ties. And each day might see the scandal of its 
doors being closed by the police, as those of a 
public nuisance ; whilst each night, in which, 
after prayers, my pupils retired with a blessing, 
might be the last in which they would be allowed 
to remain under my protection. 



288 REBECCA. 

Bitterness entered my soul, I confess it, O 
Source of charity! when Thy servants sided 
against me, and the children of Truth kept si- 
lence because I did not follow their views. Not 
all did so ; but those whose influence might have 
stemmed the tide, which now began to run 
against me. 

For the families who had confided to me their 
sons remained unshaken in their opinion, and 
the love of their children was unimpaired ; but 
the uncertain state of things, being noised abroad, 
intimidated others, and cast a veil of doubt over 
the rectitude of my intentions. 

And old griefs buried in the course of time, 
and traditions of family, which seemed absorbed 
in the novel career I had opened to my youthful 
ambition, chastened by the impulse of religion, 
began to stir again. What, after all, was Hol- 
land to me % — what the reigning dynasty ? 
Whatever I owed, had I not paid it back with 
usury ? Had I not risked my life in battle 
against the Belgian Provinces ? Had I not de- 
voted my whole heart and all my talents to the 
education of its nobility ? and, now that I asked 
the simple permission of continuing my work, 
— not even in the royal residence, but anywhere 



REBECCA. 289 

in the kingdom, — was I not left in doubt and 
uncertainty, equal to, if not worse than, refusal \ 
Thus my heart was soured, and I remember 
those months of suspense with pain and grief; 
for I had attained the age of matured manhood, 
and I could appreciate the workings of party- 
spirit and maliciousness under the cloak of 
religion, combining with a heartless world to 
overthrow the work of years. I began to look 
to the Belgian Provinces as the natural asylum 
where I could find a free and untrammelled field 
of action ; where I might expect congeniality in 
all things except one : for Belgium was the bul- 
wark of Roman power. In Belgium, education 
was in the hands of two parties : on one side, the 
clergy, more and more, with exclusive spirit, vin- 
dicating its influence ; on the other, the liberal 
party, infidel and revolutionary. There to cast 
my lot was hazardous in the extreme ; for I was 
truly simple-minded, and loved the Truth for her- 
self. And, among the Roman clergy, I have 
found many men whom I could reverence and 
love ; and, among infidels, I have met with noble 
hearts whom I must admire : but I could never 
bend to what I deemed superstition, nor could I 
work with those who denied Him. 



290 REBECCA. 

Whilst I was thus suffering from outward 
pressure, and the bitter feeling of injustice, 
crushing me with slow but sure and unperceived 
means, my bosom was torn by a wound which 
even now is not healed ; for it was not inflicted 
by the hand of God, but my own hands made it, 
cruelly tearing the bonds of charity. And I will 
confess this, O my God! I will confess it in 
these memoirs of my life, that others may learn, 
and my heart be unburdened, and no one may 
think better of me than I deserve. 

My first and oldest pupils had now attained 
the age of entering the university. They were 
proud and handsome youths, full of life and 
vigor, and strong in the possession of rank 
and wealth. But, with increasing age and im- 
portance, they were indulged in what makes the 
delight of the world ; yet not beyond the mea- 
sure of common usage, but far beyond the 
measure of my stricter views, and of what I 
thought desirable for their future career. The 
eldest, always headstrong, gave me often cause 
of grief; whilst the younger, whom I loved as 
the ripening plant of my faithful culture, was 
more or less influenced by what I considered an 
evil. Thus the germ of bitterness arose in my 



REBECCA. 291 

heart ; and what I ought to have overlooked, I 
sharply reproved, and made the evil worse. 

The overbearing mood of Adolphe, scarcely 
restrained by the reverence he owed me, vented 
itself upon the assistants. More than once I had 
to interfere : but at last I resorted to an ex- 
treme, threatening expulsion at the first just 
complaint; and, when the complaint came, I 
thought I had gone to the utmost limits of for- 
bearance, and with stern decision announced my 
resolution. But Charles, in a private interview, 
with manly energy pleaded, reminding me of 
Alfred, the promising boy, who innocently would 
be deprived of valuable instruction. 

I see him yet, and hear his deep and moved 
voice. What was it, then, which hardened my 
heart, and made me deaf to the interests of those 
I loved so well, and to my own ? What was it 
which made me tear asunder a bond so tenderly 
interwoven with seven years of my life ? What 
was it which made me forget the affection and 
love of parents, and the never-failing devotedness 
of Lady Marie % 

For, on the following day, I myself carried a 
letter, requesting the baron to withdraw his two 
eldest sons from the Institute; and when the 



292 REBECCA. 

father, boiling with indignation, wrote to me a 
letter filled with bitter reproach, showing appre- 
ciation of what I had done for his sons during so 
many years, but foretelling that I would regret 
the rash and cruel step, I remember having said, 
" I am right, — I am right : I could not do 
otherwise." And though thereafter we were 
reconciled, and he and his sons visited me fre- 
quently, yet I could never resolve to remove my 
sentence of banishment. Thirteen years elapsed 
before I was convinced of my wrong. Then I 
was a father myself; and I remember the day, 
when in my solitary study, reading all the letters 
and papers, my heart was moved, my judgment 
enlightened ; and, in the presence of none but 
Him who formed the heart and its issues, I con- 
fessed what I now confess, " that I had broken 
the law of charity." 

And this, with other sins, has been forgiven 
me. I know it, O Source of my life ! for I did 
it in ignorance, truly believing that I was right. 
But even my error, thou, in thy wisdom, employ- 
edst as a good ; for it sundered the strongest tie 
that bound me to the land of my sojourning, and 
hastened the course of events as thou hadst di- 
rected them. 



REBECCA. 293 

Whilst I was preparing my fourth examina- 
tion, bearing up against the pressure of uncer- 
tainty, and hoping by results to show the practi- 
cal working of my Institute, I was cheered by 
a letter from Adelaide. She was happy, and 
hoped to see me in my vacation. " Sometimes," 
she said, " I wish I could fly to you ! And now 
I desire your presence for more than one rea- 
son." For her heart had opened itself to the 
influence of heavenly truth, and her natural good- 
ness had become sweetened with the perfume of 
grace : and, when residing for a time with a mar- 
ried sister, she had been struck by the difference; 
for there she had not found the life of Christ, 
and the contrast made her attentive. Thus she 
was drawn to thee, O Parent of our immortal 
souls ! 

The examination was even more successful 
than I expected, and attended by men of learning 
and experience, whose conversation I overheard, 
flattering to myself, and greatly commending the 
Institute. Unwilling to give up, unless in posi- 
tive necessity, I had drawn out a plan of studies 
for the coming year, full and ample, and giving 
proof of the wide range my establishment was 
intended to take. With the conviction of having 



294 REBECCA. 

done my duty, and obtained the approbation of 
men whom I esteemed, I left for Brussels • and 
thence travelled to Mouscron, in the picturesque 
province of Hainault. 

I arrived towards dusk in the dreary-looking 
village. There was none of the enchanting 
beauty of Pre Beni, none of the Christian life 
so sweetly pervading the domestic circles of Ge- 
neva ; there was no Church of the Witness, no 
song of Zion ascending from throngs of pious 
worshippers ; and my own mood was different 
from that which, three years before, gave a rosy 
color to all I saw. I had learned much, and suf- 
fered much ; and the poetry of religion had given 
place to stern reality. The future, too, seemed 
uncertain, though I felt it more than ever in the 
hands of God. My natural disposition had be- 
come more stern, and less confiding ; and the 
glow of affection, which before had warmed me 
towards all, had withdrawn at the contact with 
worldliness and hypocrisy : but the light of faith 
was burning with intensity ; and, where I went, I 
carried the fear of God within. Thus I was, 
when, through the dreary streets of Mouscron, I 
found my way to the house of Mr. P., an honest, 
sociable Frenchman, and an artist of more than 



REBECCA. 295 

common talent, the husband of Adelaide's eldest 
sister. 

The first I saw, when opening the door, was 
Adelaide, in pensive mood engaged in landscape- 
drawing. When I entered, looking up, she 
blushed, and, rising, extended to me her hand 
with the warmth of friendship and the dignity 
of maidenhood. It was Adelaide ; the same 
who received me in her mother's sick-room with 
outburst of joy, but now with the composed re- 
serve of a Christian virgin. Oh sweetness im- 
parted by the indwelling grace of God ! Oh true 
refinement, which neither birth nor learning can 
give ! Oh fragrance of holiness, wherein the soul 
is bathed, and which nothing can destroy, not 
even the pestilent atmosphere of a world in sin ! 

I looked long at her ; and, holding her hand, 
I said, " The same, and yet how changed ! " She 
blushed, and went to call her sister. 

During a week, many were the walks we made, 
and the conversations we had ; sometimes search- 
ing, sometimes mirthful, sometimes recalling 
times past. My heart began to be troubled ; for 
I was honest, and did more than love her: I 
reverenced her. I reverenced her for her child- 
hood's sake, for her youth's sake, for her piety's 



296 REBECCA. 

sake ; I reverenced in her the same who once 
had spoken to me in the silence of night ; and, 
uncertain what to do, I prepared to depart on 
the following day. 

But her brother-in-law took me apart; and, 
during a pleasant walk, he said, "What are your 
intentions] Be clear: for Adelaide's rest is at 
stake ; and so is yours, if I see well." 

And I said, " Your sister is young, and without 
experience ; and she may mistake affection for 
love." But he gave me encouraging assurance: 
and, strange to say, in the depth of my heart I 
was jealous of any interference ; for so great a 
gift as I began to hope that God intended to give 
me in Adelaide, I wished to hold from Him 
alone. 

And, when that night I reached the hotel 
where I stopped, I urgently prayed, and little 
did I sleep ; for many were the thoughts which 
arose and vanished before my imagination. 
Whether I was right in asking the gift of God, I 
did not know ; and the maiden seemed to me 
so pure and holy in her very solitude among 
uncongenial spirits, that I dreaded to approach 
her with other than words of Christian fond- 
ness. 



REBECCA. 297 

But the following day, having partaken of my 
last meal with the family, I asked to see her 
alone. Standing in the small parlor, I took both 
her hands, and said, "Adelaide, I have asked 
you as a gift from God for all eternity : there is 
none to answer for you but yourself. What 
does God say?" 

Through her I received the confirmation of 
what I hoped. " Dieu le vent" said she, hiding 
her blushing face in my bosom, " et je le veux." 

And we knelt down, and called upon Him 
who gave us to each other. Thus we honored 
him ; and, when we arose, I asked leave, in the 
presence of her family, to embrace her as my 
bride. 

That evening I departed, and left for the waters 
of Spa; for we were both moved and amazed, 
and I thought it right to let the will of God have 
its untrammelled course. But our correspondence 
made up for absence : they were letters sweet, 
and full of joy and confidence. And, after three 
weeks, I returned, and dreary Mouscron seemed 
a paradise to me. I found there Eleonore, al- 
ways sweet and lovely, and happy in the happi- 
ness of her sister. With her I returned to H., 
once more to resume my labor, but strengthened 

20 



298 REBECCA. 

in my heart: for, come what would, I had found 
a sweet companion, with whom to pray and hope, 
and to battle through life ; and all the bitterness 
caused by injustice or ingratitude was effaced by 
the fragrant gift of God. 



THE FIRST HOME. 299 



CHAPTER XXX. 



THE FIRST HOME. 



There are turning-points in the career of each 
individual, when the stream of life seems to take 
a new direction, invigorated by a new principle 
of activity. Thus it is with individuals, thus 
with nations, thus with the human race. To 
observe these, and the circumstances which lead 
to them, and the effect they have upon the for- 
mation of the character of individuals, nations, 
and mankind, is the exclusive privilege of the hu- 
man mind ; in this, showing its divine origin. 

When in the hour of night, in manner to me 
unknown, God spoke to me, and showed me my 
true relation to him, all my energies were thrown 
into a new channel. After that, I served him 
truly, but not without remaining attached to many 
prejudices of tradition and early training. 

But now he spoke to me through the mouth 
of a pious virgin, who, loving me, feared him. 
She gave herself to me, and gladly consented to 



300 THE FIRST HOME. 

be my companion for time and eternity. My 
solitary existence was more than doubled in 
force and energy. Now the world was wide 
open indeed. Wherever she was would be my 
treasure ; for he was the centre of our mutual 
affection. Thus I see it now, O Source of my 
life ! Thus, towards the time when I was about 
to leave connections, who knew and respected 
my claims and the honesty of my motives, — to- 
wards the time when I was forced to mingle 
with a world hard and selfish and uncongenial, 
— thou gavest thy servant a help, whose piety 
would sustain the flame of devotion, and whose 
cheerful energy would be able to withstand the 
pressure of circumstances. 

I came home with all the hopeful buoyancy 
of one whose life is doubled ; and, with renewed 
zeal, I undertook my task. All my pupils were 
there ; and, notwithstanding my ill-advised step 
with regard to the baron's sons, the confidence 
of those who knew me remained strong. But 
my unauthorized position blighted more and 
more the wholesome growth of the Institute ; 
and the thought of transferring it to the capital 
of Belgium returned with inflexible assiduity. 

I went to Brussels. I saw the pastors of two 



THE FIRST HOME. 301 

Independent chapels, — the one a Calvinist, the 
other an Arminian ; and, through them, made 
the acquaintance of several English families. 
I felt the ground was different. An institute 
there, based on Protestant Christian principles, 
would be the representative of a "sect" tole- 
rated by the liberal laws of the country, but yet 
an anomaly, and supported only by the " poor 
and humble," and those foreign residents whose 
religious views happened to coincide with the 
proselyting tendencies of the " faithful." I felt 
it, but not as well as I do now ; for the zeal of 
religion overcame my prudence, until it was 
chastened and matured by disappointments and 
the teachings of experience. 

From Brussels I went to L. in France, where 
with the venerable Pastor Marzial I had a long 
and searching conference ; and I remember 
many reflections, which then I did not under- 
stand, but showed clear enough his doubts and 
fears. For he, with Adolphe Monod and others, 
though preaching the blessed truth of Christ, 
abstained from "sects" and "splits." But the 
conclusion was, that I should remove to Brus- 
sels. I saw Adelaide, too, and spoke to her of 
my future change. 



302 THE FIRST HOME. 

" Wherever you go," said she, " the blessing 
of God will follow you." 

And we agreed that towards Christmas we 
should be married. 

On my return to H., I notified the parents, 
that, if allowed by authority, I would continue 
the Institute until the 15th of November, — the 
fourth anniversary of its opening ; and I mani- 
fested my purpose to re-open it in Brussels on 
the 1st of January, 1842. Several wished to 
continue their sons with me, — among them the 
Countess V. L. S., whose son I truly loved 
as my own ; and the others regretted my deci- 
sion. 

And now I set to work to have every thing 
arranged for our marriage ; a thing not easy by 
the law of France in vigor there, — consent of 
parents and grandparents on both sides, or show 
that they are no more ; certificates of baptism, 
certificates of national militia, &c. Now, with 
the guardian of Adelaide I had not acted pro- 
perly. I had not asked him the permission of 
addressing his ward. He was an old man, and I 
was wrong in this as in many things ; and, when 
I asked his consent, he refused. He objected to 
my religious tendencies : but the second guar- 



THE FIRST HOME. 303 

dian, a mother's brother, a gallant officer in the 
army, spoke for me ; and so, after many letters, 
I received his consent. My mother had never 
seen my bride ; but she had heard of her, and 
sent me her blessing. 

The 15th of November had come ; and I took 
leave of the parents and my pupils, and the 
matron and my faithful servants, and at mid- 
night I left West-End Institute ; and, when the 
stage proceeded slowly through the residence, 
the tears started in my eyes. Long and faith- 
fully I had labored there. Many, many joys 
and blessings I had received ; many, many sor- 
rows I had met. The warmest and most enthu- 
siastic years of manhood I had passed there in 
solitary labor, trying to build up what in my 
eyes was noblest and best ; and the favor of 
royalty, and the support of nobility, and the 
esteem of many, had been my portion ; then, 
again, the animadversion of some, and the dis- 
trust of others, and the time-serving silence of 
fickle royalty. I left with sorrow, but not with- 
out disdain ; for the country, where, after years 
of manifest usefulness, I could not obtain the 
right of working for its benefit, seemed no more 
worthy of me. 



304 THE FIRST HOME. 

The road was long and dreary, and the night 
cold. But, in the morning, I had reached the 
frontier ; and, with a heart full of deep emotion, 
I said farewell to the land of my sojournings. 
For the thoughts of night had softened my 
harsher feelings ; and, forgetting the evil done 
me by a few, I only remembered the good re- 
ceived from so many. 

A week I spent in Brussels to secure a con- 
venient house, to see the friends who, I must 
say, were zealous in my undertaking, and to 
extend the circle of my acquaintances. Thence 
I went to France, and came to claim my bride. 

Two sisters were at the head of the Ecole 
Normale, then the only Protestant school in 
Northern France. The elder one, to all the wit 
and sparkling humor of a well-bred lady, joined 
the knowledge and learning of thorough scholar- 
ship. The younger one was stern and strict, 
true and single-minded, but surpassing her sister 
in devotedness to the cause of truth. Both, with 
all their heart, loved Adelaide, and, with the Pas- 
tor Marzial, proved her best and truest friends. 

" Take care of her," they said ; " for a treasure 
has been committed to you, — a treasure which 
to appreciate will take you time." 



THE FIRST HOME. 305 

And with blessing they dismissed her, who 
had become endeared by the eternal bonds of 
Christian love. The Eve of St. Nicholas we 
passed at Mouscron, remembering the St. Nicho- 
las Eve, when, years before, I visited with her 
and her sister the stores at L. ; and in the me- 
mories of the past arose the St. Nicholas Eve, 
when, twenty years before, I stood, a little boy, 
between my father and destruction. These 
things, I remembered, O faithful God ! and 
thanked thee. 

From Mouscron Mr. P. accompanied us ; for 
over the ancient city of Ghent we had to travel, 
passing the boisterous waters of the Scheldt, 
until we reached M., on the fertile Island of 
Walcheren. There the brave Capt. D. resided, 
the second guardian of my bride ; and there, 
according to law, the marriage had to be per- 
formed. 

It was a bright December day; and in the 
City Hall we were received by a brilliant throng 
of officers, who, honoring the uncle, were glad 
to catch a glimpse of the niece. Leaning on 
his arm, she moved gracefully on, till she came, 
in the Audience Hall, before the grave and dig- 
nified magistrate. Then, leaving her uncle's 



306 THE FIRST HOME. 

arm, she placed her right hand in mine. The 
chosen witnesses being sworn, the magistrate 
demanded our free and full consent to the mar- 
riage contract, which there we subscribed in the 
huge volume of records; and, whilst the wit- 
nesses added their names, he gave us an admo- 
nition strangely composed of theology and law, 
but withal impressive. Such was the form of 
civil marriage, without which none is valid. 
The parties may thereafter honor God as best 
they like; but this must go before. 

That day we travelled back to Ghent, and 
thence to Brussels. The honey-moon was short 
indeed ; for we set immediately to work to ar- 
range our house, and prepare it for the opening 
of the Institute in January. 

It was in the pleasant suburb of Schaerbeck, 
on the prolongation of the beautiful Rue Roy ale, 
the chaussee leading to the royal domain of 
Laken. Localities, like persons, leave their in- 
delible impressions, which we recall with unac- 
countable pain or pleasure ; and this first home 
of my married estate I remember in all its details 
as cheerful. The house was newly built, and 
finished with great regard to taste and conve- 
nience, commanding a magnificent view over the 



THE FIRST HOME. 307 

plain through which the narrow Senne winds its 
way, and over which the railroad car dashes 
with lightning speed. The horizon was wide 
and far, but limited by the graceful curve of 
wooded hills, here and there dotted with villages 
and hamlets ; and, when looking down the broad 
and smoothly paved chaussee, we could descry 
the verdant parks of Laken, the summer resi- 
dence of royalty. 

Towards Christmas came my pupils from H., 
and others arrived from English families. It 
was no more " West End : " it was a Protestant 
school, in the midst of a dominant creed. It 
became, by force of circumstances, exclusive ; 
and there was an attraction in the very uncer- 
tainty of my position. It was a life of faith 
from day to day, looking out for help and 
strength. It was a service rendered with more 
implicit confidence than at H. It was, to us at 
least, a light shining in the darkness. Our 
family worship was more complete, our prayers 
were more frequent and fervent, our perplexities 
incessant, and our deliverances such as to make 
me often sink down on my knees, and thank 
Him, as truly present, with words of intense 
gratitude. 



308 THE FIRST HOME. 

We soon had an extensive circle of friends of 
various countries, of different social position, 
but all knit together by the love of truth ; and 
yet, O Fountain of truth ! in that small band of 
Christians, who thought to serve thee better out 
of the pale of Rome, there was division. For 
some disbelieved " original sin" and " election" 
and " assurance," and followed the Pastor B., a 
man of talent and somewhat worldly wisdom. 
Others gave all the glory to thy grace, and hoped 
to exalt thy goodness by loudly proclaiming their 
wickedness; and these followed the conscien- 
tious but sober teachings of honest Pastor P. 
Thus were the Christians divided, who in a 
stricter way desired to serve the Lord. For 
others followed the National Church, supported 
by the State, where Rationalism sat enthroned ; 
and others, again, the Anglican Chapel, which 
was considered as formal. 

And I was perplexed : for, in my simplicity, I 
thought that truth must needs be somewhere ; 
whilst it is nowhere in its fulness, except in God, 
and in Him who came from God. To possess 
him, and to carry him in an honest heart, is to 
have the truth ; but he who is thus blessed cares 
not for human doctrine. He had rather " know 



THE FIRST HOME. 309 

nothing " than to " know wrongly," if that may 
be called knowledge which is a profane splitting 
of the one and holy truth. 

And now I know no more than I did then ; 
but this, my ignorance, I call my safety. That 
He is love, I know ; for his creation proclaims 
it, and his Word reveals it. But to separate his 
holy unity, I dread ; and how he is just, and 
how he is holy, and how he foreordains, I do 
not know. Thus I think of thee, O immutable 
Source of our existence ! whose love I know in 
thy eternal Son ; and there I rest. 

But then I was more curious, and wished to 
unravel thy mysteries ; and with my wife, thy 
gracious gift, I truly began to read part of thy 
Word, in the hope of being instructed in human 
doctrine. And I remember having read with 
her, day after day, a chapter in the Epistle of 
thy Apostle Paul to the Ephesians; and we 
came to the conclusion, that the doctrine of 
" election " was the true one ; and we honestly 
acted upon our belief, and joined the chapel of 
the Calvinists. 

They were zealous and fervent, keeping strict 
watch over each other ; and I thought that some- 
times their love went so far as to become officious, 



310 THE FIRST HOME. 

assuming the character of the " busy-bodies " 
mentioned in Scripture. But, on the whole, it 
was a sweet communion, wherein the fervor of 
religion was not allowed to be quenched by 
worldliness. Besides the pastor and elders, they 
had four exhorters, brethren whom they esteemed 
gifted to the edification of the church ; and I was 
appointed one, and, in the humble Chapel of the 
" Rue Ducale," often prayed and exhorted. To 
these things I look now with astonishment ; for 
it was done in a spirit of simplicity, which knew 
little of the " visible " pomp and beauty of wor- 
ship ; and if, thereafter, I have found more "state- 
liness and dignity," I have not found more depth 
of conviction working with a single look to the 
Saviour. In that unadorned chapel, we met the 
noble Baron D. with his family, and the Baroness 
d'A., and many others reclaimed from unbelief 
or superstition. But near them kneeled the 
humble artisan, and many poor and needy ; and 
by no other name they knew each other, than by 
that of " brother " or " sister." 

Yet my Institute was narrowed by the step we 
had taken. The Chapel " du Boulevard " and the 
" National Church " withdrew their support. 
Our numbers increased but slowly ; and the 



THE FIRST HOME. 311 

sphere of my usefulness seemed small when com- 
pared with my aspirations in H. But within was 
peace and happiness. One spirit pervaded the 
whole. Our house, indeed, was a mission, where 
even the humble servant-girl became thirsty after 
the waters of life ; and our pupils were joyous 
and contented, and some gave signs of spiritual 
life. Truly this first year, with many troubles 
and anxieties, left an indelible impression of 
happiness; and for this I thank thee, O my 
Creator ! for having vouchsafed thy presence in 
a time when every thing seemed new, and the 
course of my life took another direction. 



312 THE DOMINICAN. 



CHAPTER XXXI. 



THE DOMINICAN. 



I was just recovering from a severe illness, 
which, during two months, had laid me on a bed 
of sickness with pain and anxiety. The month of 
May was developing all the beauties of a truly 
gorgeous landscape ; when, resting on the bal- 
cony, I received a note, requesting my presence 
at the house of Mr. T. He was the agent of the 
British Foreign Bible Society ; a man of action, a 
good and practical Christian. I thought the walk 
might do me good; and, crossing the hills, I soon 
arrived at his dwelling in the Faubourg de 
Namur. 

Mr. T. received me in his study with more 
than common seriousness ; for, though a Puritan 
in creed, he was one who "enjoyed" life, and, 
with his numerous family, presented a perfect 
picture of English comfort. 

" Here is a case," said he, " rather strange and 
startling, and wherein we want your counsel 



THE DOMINICAN. 313 

and assistance. A Dominican monk, escaped 
from the convent at Ghent, has come to Pastor 
P., and tells a tale of sorrow and oppression, and 
penitent-seeking after truth. He is a Pole from 
Livonia, speaks French and German, and seems 
a well-informed man. In great anxiety, he needs 
an asylum where he may be sure against surprise. 
We thought of you. Perhaps you can employ 
him ; and with you he would be safe in more 
than one respect. See him, and then judge." 

The monk was introduced. He was a man of 
almost gigantic stature, a little awkward in his 
ill-suited clothes, but withal of commanding 
aspect, dark complexion, with large, intelligent 
eyes, though somewhat bewildered expression. 
He repeated shortly what Mr. T. had said, and 
showed his " begging-pass ; " wherein it was 
stated " that Brother Ignacius was allowed to be 
absent from the convent at Ghent during eight 
days, on condition of begging for the commu- 
nity." And that was all the man could show ; 
that was all he had in the world to identify him- 
self. I remember having been amazed at a sys- 
tem, which, in a civilized country, deprived a 
man of talent and moral worth, of all, of his 
name, of his identity, to send him on a " begging 

21 



314 THE DOMINICAN. 

expedition." I offered him my house, and occu- 
pation, should he like it ; and he thankfully 
accepted. When I came home, my wife was 
rather astonished at the novel guest, for whom 
she had to prepare a room ; but she did it cheer- 
fully, and with delicate attention. 

The following morning, when I spoke to her 
a few words in a language I thought unknown 
to him, he said with a peculiar gravity and quiet- 
ness, " Sir, allow me two remarks : the first is, 
that there is no European language wherewith I 
am not sufficiently acquainted to understand it 
when spoken ; the second is, that I am anxious 
to make myself useful in the school in any man- 
ner you may choose." 

I could not but admire the delicacy of feeling 
which dictated the two remarks ; and concluded 
that the gigantic friar, who possessed nothing 
but a " begging-pass," was a " gentleman." 

His learning was extensive in languages, lite- 
rature, theology, and sciences ; nor was he un- 
acquainted with the fine arts, being an excellent 
judge of music and an exquisite draughtsman. 
He seemed at home in all parts of the world, 
and in his conversation showed the reserve of 
conscious knowledge, with a refined appreciation 



THE DOMINICAN. 315 

of circumstances and character. I gained his 
confidence ; for I gave him mine : and though 
he used to avoid even an allusion to times past, 
and shrank from the appearance of boasting, yet 
I succeeded in gathering from him the details 
which follow : — 

He had assumed the name of Loven ; being 
the first half of his real name. He was the eld- 
est son of the Count von Lovenhaupt, a Livonian 
nobleman, whose brother, at that very time, was 
a member of the Russian cabinet. When eight 
years of age, he was sent to a college in Poland, 
and educated as the future heir of princely 
wealth. Of his younger brother he seldom 
spoke; but to his only sister he clung with 
tender admiration. 

" How well I remember," he said with a voice 
stifled by emotion, " the rides on horseback we 
took together when spending the holidays at 
home ! It is now nineteen years since last I saw 
her. Faithfully she has written to me ; but even 
her letters are gone. I have nothing now but 
the bitter regret of what my life might have 
been." 

Whilst at the college, his thoughts were con- 
stantly drawn towards a " religious " life. His 



316 THE DOMINICAN. 

natural disposition was serious, and, I should say, 
rather heavy. It seems that his educators en- 
couraged him in his " religious " tendency ; thus, 
at least, he spoke of it ; and, when he was eigh- 
teen years of age, he declared his wish to enter 
the order of the Dominicans. The eldest son 
and heir of such a family, with wealth and in- 
fluence fabulous in Western Europe, to give up 
his name and rank and riches, and to become, in 
the spring of life, a poor and insignificant friar 
in some Polish cloister, seemed madness; but 
neither the entreaties of his sister, nor the stern 
refusal of his father, could overcome his resolu- 
tion to "seek salvation" in the order of St. Do- 
minic. "With faltering voice, he narrated to me 
the last interview with his assembled family. 
Nineteen years had passed since the day, when, 
for the last time, he stood amid the splendor of 
his house, and there resigned his rights to his 
younger brother, and, leaving his name and 
kindred, became an obscure monk. 

He wandered to the nearest convent, and was 
received. After a few years, he was sent to 
Italy ; and, in Milan, was made Professor of Con- 
fession. His was the charge to train the younger 
clergy in the science of " hearing confessions,'' — 



THE DOMINICAN. 317 

a science requiring tact and discrimination. Af- 
ter four years, he was sent to Rome, where he 
became one of the assistant-librarians of the Va- 
tican, — a post for which his linguistic know- 
ledge fitted him exceedingly. There he had 
access to the department exclusively consecrated 
to the " heretical " publications, which, under 
lock and key, are accessible to none. His in- 
quisitive mind began to roam in the extensive 
storehouse, where the fruit of the forbidden tree 
of knowledge was hoarded up since centuries, — 
enough to perplex the strongest mind ; and his 
was a strong one, and from childhood cultivated 
with utmost care. But doubts began to arise. 
Rome was not infallible; Rome was gainsaid 
by men of deep and far-reaching intelligence ; 
and, in the dusty reading-rooms of the ancient 
Vatican, — in the stronghold of the world-ruling 
power, — the Dominican friar began to chafe 
under the pressure of self-imposed chains. 

He was not alone. An American bishop, sent 
to the Southern States of Peru and Chili with a 
mission of restoring the " semblance " of disci- 
pline where immorality and vice had reached the 
culminating point, and now in Rome to receive 
instructions, had been touched by the same im- 



318 THE DOMINICAN. 

pressions, and moved by the same harassing 
doubts. 

But the Dominican, poor and unknown, had a 
struggle of which we scarcely have a conception, 
— the sacrifice of rank and wealth and honors, 
nineteen years of voluntary poverty, passed in 
roaming from north to south, — all for that 
which now he believed to be an error ! 

As he repeatedly refused to preach on the sub- 
ject of the intercessory office of the Blessed Vir- 
gin, he was suspected of heterodoxy, and finally 
confined in a convent near the Inquisition. 
There he remained a close prisoner during seven 
long months. At last, he seemed to have found 
sympathy; and one of his keepers agreed to place 
a ladder under his window, whereby to escape. 
It was midnight when he began his descent ; but 
scarcely had he taken his position on the ladder, 
when it was drawn from under him. With frac- 
tured skull, he lay many weeks in danger. His 
mind was affected, and had never recovered its 
usual strength. He took my hand, and made me 
lay my finger in the gash, — a frightful memento 
of treason ; for this, more than all, affected him 
even then, — that he in whom he confided had 
thus treacherously attempted to take his life. 



THE DOMINICAN. 319 

When slowly recovering, he was at the point 
of being transferred to the prisons of the Inqui- 
sition. Once there, his doom was sealed. But, 
in that time of anguish, there came relief; for 
the American bishop, whom I mentioned before, 
succeeded in obtaining his release. He was, 
said he, weak of mind, and, if confided to his 
care, would soon recover, not only health, but 
also his right perception of the faith. Over Ger- 
many, he had to travel to Antwerp, there to 
embark for Peru; and, if the Dominican was 
allowed to be his companion, he would see him 
safe in one of the convents of Belgium. Thus it 
was arranged ; and thus he travelled, and arrived 
in Ghent. 

But the treatment he had received, and the 
conversations with the enlightened bishop, and 
the journey through Protestant countries, con- 
firmed him in his aversion for a creed to which 
he had devoted all. " I could not live," said he ; 
" I could not die. From my sister I have not 
heard for more than two years: she has suc- 
ceeded to the estates of my deceased brother ; 
and I have none in the world whom I can name 
my friend. A pamphlet of Pastor P. on the 
Soman controversy came into my hands. To 



320' THE DOMINICAN. 

him I wished to go, and asked a begging-pass ; 
and here I am, a wreck in every sense." 

Thus he narrated to me his story at various 
times. If there is any thing untrue or exag- 
gerated, the blame is his. But he lived seven 
months under my roof; and I frequently over- 
heard, without his knowledge, his prayers uttered 
in the hour of night. They were the prayers of 
one wrestling with God ; they were prayers deep, 
serious, and searching. And his conduct was 
uniform; nor did I ever discover the slightest 
deviation from truth in other things, but rather a 
simplicity strangely combined with a high and 
delicate sense of honor. The native dignity of 
man seemed to have been struggling for life, and 
now re-asserted its " inalienable right." 

I sympathized with him. We both had sacri- 
ficed worldly prospects to what we esteemed 
best, but with different result ; and, comparing 
his forlorn position with mine, I could ■ not but 
grieve for him, and be thankful to God for my- 
self. Yet, although we did all in our power to 
comfort him, he seemed to become more and 
more restless and anxious : he was in constant 
fear of being surprised. Whether there was 
real cause, or past sufferings excited his imagi- 



THE DOMINICAN. 321 

nation, I cannot tell ; but he at last conceived 
himself the object of secret spies, who watched 
his going-out and coming-in. Not a bell rung, 
but he started in dismay. Our friends thought 
best to procure him a passport to England ; and 
there he went, towards fall, with letters of recom- 
mendation to good and pious families. 

Thence he wrote me several times, and his 
letters were full of affection and gratitude. It 
seemed to me, that in the Church of England he 
found a more congenial temper, more order, and 
less division, than among the Protestants at Brus- 
sels. How it affected him thereafter, I do not 
know ; for I lost sight of him, and the Dominican 
is among the many remembrances of the Old 
World. 

But, at that time, his appearance made a 
strange impression on my mind. He was to me 
as the embodiment of a system; and I judged the 
whole by one individual case, which is an unfair 
means of attaining the truth. I forgot the thou- 
sands of holy and self-devoted men who humbly 
and successfully labored within that system ; and, 
too desirous of finding what might be called 
absolute truth, I thought that opposition to the 
dominant Church was paramount to duty. 



322 THE DOMINICAN. 

Whilst I was nourishing my mind with these 
reflections, profitable to none, and least to my- 
self, the tidings came that the pastor of " the Wit- 
ness " had arrived on a missionary tour, and, that 
evening, would preach in our chapel. 

I was ill, and could not go ; but Adelaide 
went, with eager expectation, and desirous of 
seeing the venerable man of whom I had told 
her so often. To a crowded audience he preached 
one of those stirring sermons, wherein love was 
so singularly blended with serious appeal. Ade- 
laide was moved ; and, after service, came up to 
him, and, taking his hand, said with tearful eye, 
" I am the wife of Leno." And with endearing 
love, folding her in his arms, he said, " Then 
you are my daughter indeed ; for Leno is my 
son." When she wept on his bosom, knowing 
all, and loving him for my sake, he gave her 
words of comfort, and, with her, came to see 
me. 

Shall I forget the days he passed with us, — 
his cheerful talk, so full of wit, and overrunning 
with God-fearing love ; the spirit of confidence 
he poured into my heart ; the prayers he prayed 
with us ? Shall I forget the tender interest he 
took in our affairs, and how he strengthened our 



THE DOMINICAN. 323 

arms ? and how, after he left, we felt as if a new 
spirit had entered the house, and we could en- 
dure all and overcome all? 

Thus the first year of our married state drew 
to an end, with pleasant remembrances of happy 
days, of duties faithfully performed, of difficulties 
gone through, of visits received from many Chris- 
tian friends ; and, though our Institute increased 
slowly, it was a cheerful household, where the 
seeds were sown surely and effectually ', because 
faithfulness was the watchword, and reliance the 
moving power. 



324 A TEMPTATION. 



CHAPTER XXXII. 



A TEMPTATION. 



It was the month of January, when winter for 
a time seems to mar the beauty of nature, allow- 
ing rest to the bountiful earth and the fruit-bear- 
ing trees ; and every thing is blank and cheerless, 
except home, sweet home. And mine was sweet 
indeed ; for Adelaide had given me a gift, which 
to this day I possess, though once the Author of 
his life laid him low on the couch of sickness, 
reminding me of the Giver. Who but a father 
knows the blessing bestowed in a first-born ; — 
the joyful happiness and nameless pride ; the 
beam of light which seems to illuminate the 
humblest dwelling, as if, from upper regions, a 
little stranger had arrived to cheer and to con- 
sole, and to give a fresh and better impulse to 
our worldly minds ? 

When the mother had recovered her strength, 
we humbly walked to our chapel ; for there he 
would be dedicated to our God in the holy sacra- 



A TEMPTATION. 325 

ment of baptism. It was a frosty morning, and 
the walk was long ; but I remember it as yester- 
day. The care for the mother, whom now I 
loved with double reverence ; the care for the 
slumbering babe, whom I received from thee, 
O Author of my life! the Christian friends, 
who truly rejoiced for me ; the pastor's sermon, 
who faithfully explained the word of God, — I 
remember it all. And, when the congregation 
had retired, in the presence of a few friends the 
minister called upon God, and, in the power of 
the Holy Trinity, gave him the name of the pas- 
tor of the Witness : for to him I looked as to my 
spiritual father ; and, disregarding lineage and 
ancestors' names, I wished my first-born to bear 
his name whom both my wife and myself loved 
and revered. 

But among the friends was not the pastor's 
wife ; a devoted, pious Christian, whose law was 
charity. Yet she could not consent to sanction 
by her presence what she considered a sin ; for 
she was a Baptist, and, though faithfully labor- 
ing with her conscientious husband, did not 
believe that God would make a covenant with 
unconscious innocence. I remember how it 
struck and grieved me. But little did I think, 



326 A TEMPTATION. 

that, a year thereafter, I should do worse, and 
deny what I had done, and deny the virtue of 
that holy ceremony, because, forsooth, the minis- 
ter had not received, what he could not receive, 
the imposition of a bishop's hands. Oh, strange 
inconsistency ! I then blamed what I called 
bigotry, and thereafter blamed what I had done 
myself, and denied my own baptism and that of 
all my ancestors. Thus the baptism of my first- 
born in the humble Chapel of Rue Ducale, by 
the hands of an humble minister of God, has 
become to me a lesson of charity. For which 
was worse, her quiet withdrawing, with marks of 
sympathy, from what she thought an error ; or 
my ruthless denying the efficacy of the water 
consecrated by prayer, because the minister had 
not been episcopally ordained ? O my God ! 
this sin thou hast also forgiven me ; for truly in 
ignorance did I sin, believing to serve thee ac- 
cording to thy Word. 

And now came a time of anxious thought and 
perplexity ; for, when I was rejoicing in the new 
blessing bestowed, on a Sunday evening I re- 
ceived a visit from Pietro G. He was an Italian 
refugee, who, in the political struggles of 1824, 
had escaped the penalty of death, and, in Brus- 



A TEMPTATION. 327 

sels, succeeded in building up an institute re- 
markable for thoroughness and wide range of 
learning. There Gioberti, who afterwards 
became a minister of state in Turin, taught 
historical sciences; and Quetelet, one of the 
university professors, lectured on astronomy. 
The number of pupils once had reached nearly 
two hundred and fifty ; and many were the men, 
civilians and military, who there had received 
their education. But the tendency was ultra- 
liberal, and bordering on infidelity; a natural 
consequence of direct opposition to the clerical 
party of the dominant creed. That party, 
through the energy of the Archbishop of Mech- 
lin, was in the ascendant ; and the institute was 
losing ground. Though strongly supported by 
men of eminence and learning, it needed, as it 
were, a new infusion of vigor, and the direction 
of a younger and less disappointed head. For 
Pietro G. was aged, and had seen times of trou- 
ble and want, followed by success now on the 
wane ; and, with cunning and shrewdness, he 
had a liberal disposition, showing kindness to 
many who repaid him with neglect. He came 
to me with confidence, and proposed to associate 
our efforts and influence, to combine the two 



328 A TEMPTATION. 

institutions into one ; offering me the direction, 
half the profits, and the loss, if any, to be on 
his account. 

The proposal startled me. To make a part- 
nership in the noble task of education, and give 
it thus the form of a regular " money-making 
business," was to me a novelty. , I shrunk from 
it ; for, whatever had been my success, with a 
single eye to God I had worked, thinking more 
of doing him service than of providing for the 
future. If this was an error, it was a venial 
one. But there was more. Pietro G. was an 
unbeliever. Though respecting the forms of 
religion, he did not believe the truth ; and in his 
prospectus he clearly declared, "that religion, 
being the work of God, and not of men, was 
none of his business." This I knew; and I 
candidly told him, that, with me, religion was 
the basis whereon to build. He approved of my 
frankness, and thought a little more of it might 
do no harm. 

" But," said he, " it is not only you I want : it 
is your wife. By what I hear, she will be able 
to impart to the institute that tone which mine 
can never give. Believe me, there is a mutual 
advantage in the combination. I give a house 



A TEMPTATION. 329 

and material, than which none can be better, 
with a goodly number of scholars, and old rela- 
tions in England, France, and America: you 
give your numbers and relations and learning 
and youth, and last, but not least, the magical 
influence of an accomplished lady." 

Thus saying, he left me ; and I went to the 
partner of my life to ask her opinion. 

Well do I remember that evening. Yet weak, 
and slowly recovering, her beaming eye showed 
her anxiety to know what kept me so long away ; 
and, when I told her, she said, — 

" No, Leno ! no ! God has blessed us thus 
far: why distrust him?" 

Thus she spoke, slowly and deliberately: and 
her words found an echo in my heart ; for it was 
the voice of God. It was the right decision, 
made at once by woman's prophetic instinct, 
perceiving as by intuition the true issue of the 
case. Happy the man who has such a counsel- 
lor ! Happier he who abides by her first advice ! 
Had I done so, it would have saved me bitterness 
and disappointment. 

To my letter announcing our refusal of the 
proposed union, I received an answer courteous 
and polite, by its kindly tone impressing me with 

22 



330 A TEMPTATION. 

some regret for having discarded the co-opera- 
tion of one so experienced and so considerate. 
It is strange how the slightest shade will affect, 
when principle is no more the only rule of 
action ! I saw r him often, without the know- 
ledge of Adelaide. Obstacles seemed to disap- 
pear, difficulties to be removed. I began to ask 
the advice of others, already half decided what 
to do ; for the more extended sphere of action 
tempted me, and the hope, the foolish hope, of 
grafting my religious principles on a tree so wild, 
deceived me. The pastor of the Witness wrote 
me words of warning ; but the honest minister 
of our chapel, whose son was one of my pupils, 
came to a different conclusion. He saw, to use 
a favorite expression, " a door opened," a means 
of doing good on larger scale, and of sowing the 
seed of grace broadcast. Strengthened by his 
authority, I prevailed upon Adelaide to recon- 
sider her first opinion ; next, to assist at an inter- 
view with Pietro G. : and her better judgment 
was biassed by his plausible arguments, whilst 
the advice of friendship and the preference of 
a husband finally decided her opinion. The 
contract was drawn up ; and on the first 
day of March, 1843, our institutions would be 



A TEMPTATION. 331 

united, and we should assume our more respon- 
sible duties. 

But when the day came of breaking up our 
cheerful and well-organized household, wherein 
refinement kept pace with real comfort; when 
the daily prayers, making a church of our home, 
had to cease ; when my pupils, accustomed to 
submission and regularity, had to mingle with a 
crowd of students of all nations and creeds ; 
when I took my final leave of the pleasant home, 
which had been consecrated by the remembrance 
of so many joys and deliverances, — then I 
began to realize the step I had taken ; and, find- 
ing the Institute of Pietro G. in a state of con- 
fusion and anarchy difficult to describe, I must 
confess, that for some days I was disheartened, 
and began to feel the consequences of my pre- 
sumption. 

My wrong I felt and confessed, and asked for 
strength ; for, though I had left the path of sim- 
ple duty, now it was my duty to do my best. 
Happy time, when, with the confidence of a 
child, I could confess my error, and truly feel 
that I was forgiven ! Then I began to work and 
regulate, and in this was powerfully assisted by 
her whom the pastor of the Witness used to call 



332 A TEMPTATION. 

my " valiant " wife. A few weeks had elapsed, 
when the Institute had lost its " decaying " ap- 
pearance. It seemed to start with fresh and 
renewed vigor, and, with its seventy pupils and 
eighteen professors, ranked first among those 
who were known t as opposing the dominant 
party. 



THE " JOSEPHINE." 333 



CHAPTER XXXIIL 

THE " JOSEPHINE." 

But, as I have said before, the dominant party, 
now strengthened by the marriage of King Leo- 
pold with Orleans's royal daughter, was in the 
ascendant ; and the natural disposition of the 
people favored its pretensions. Colleges, under 
the direction of the Company of Jesus, increased 
rapidly in number and importance ; and the nu- 
merous aristocracy gave them countenance. The 
cause of evangelical Protestantism was absorbed 
in the perpetually increasing splits and divisions 
amongst its advocates. In France, at least, the 
Protestants form a national body, with more than 
two millions of adherents. In Belgium, their 
whole number does not exceed a few thousands. 
They are considered anomalous, intrusive ; and 
the national feeling goes against them, as a 
remembrance of the much-disliked Batavian 
dominion. 

Pietro G. had stood a long series of years 



334 THE " JOSEPHINE." 

under its protecting shade, backed by the ram- 
pant seeds of infidelity. With the increasing 
preponderance of Catholicity, his Institute had 
lost its popularity. He sought my alliance ; 
but the decided tone of religious opposition 
which I gave to the Institute created a more 
violent counteraction than his infidelity. For 
this was dying its natural death ; but the new 
life which I brought into the Institution gave it 
a vigor and a name, which produced, amongst 
others, jealousy and envy. 

Yet there was neither king nor magistrate, 
who could, as in Holland, order me to desist; 
but there was perhaps more, — the unceasing 
activity of an extensive party, having its ramifi- 
cations in all the ranks of society, from the 
highest aristocracy to the humblest servant-girl. 

Several months we labored, and I never labored 
more ; and, for a time, it seemed as if the Insti- 
tute, so perfectly organized, so liberal in its 
provisions, might become the beneficent repre- 
sentative of a principle which had become the 
chief aim of my life. But my friends, as well 
as myself, perceived soon that outward influence 
was bearing hard against us, and my soul became 
wearied with anxiety. 



THE " JOSEPHINE." 335 

To serve Him according to my convictions 
had been my steady aim, — to serve him in the 
training of youth, or, better still, in preaching 
the gospel. Of worldly advantages, I had, as 
yet, never thought ; and though the Institute 
might promise, in future time, a reward for 
labor, it could not be, I saw, unless relaxing 
in what I deemed a sacred principle. If I was 
wrong, I was honest. If I presumed, I did it 
with a single view to the kingdom of God. In 
Holland, royal caprice and party spirit had 
driven me out. In Belgium, a dominant creed, 
national and popular, crowded me out as an 
intruder and innovator. 

Then it was that I began with ardent desire to 
look after " liberty ; " and America, with its free 
institutions, loomed up on the horizon of my im- 
agination, as the land where I might work with 
untrammelled freedom. The early impressions 
received from my father, in whose boyhood the 
War of Independence was fought ; the enthu- 
siastic study of history, and not least of Botta's 
classical work, — environed America with a halo 
of glory, which attracted me with irresistible 
force. 

The pastor of the Witness sent me letters to 



336 THE "JOSEPHINE." 

England, where he advised me to seek the Rev. 
Dr. Burgess, a man of wealth and influence. 
Some of my friends held out the prospect of 
useful missionary work in France. Others in- 
sisted strongly on my continuing my work in 
Belgium. For a time, my mind was perplexed. 
But it turned from any thing which Europe then 
could offer ; and, with magical force, the shores 
of America continued to attract me. 

When I consulted Adelaide, she was averse 
to crossing the ocean, to seek, in a world to us 
unknown, what we had enjoyed and might yet 
enjoy, — the happiness of family-life, not out of 
reach of our many friends and relations. But 
I, with unaccountable tenacity, clung to my 
purpose ; and we set to work to bring it into 
execution. 

I wrote to all my friends ; and from the pas- 
tor of the Witness, from d'Aubigne, from Mark 
Willis, and many others, I received letters of 
recommendation and introduction. Then came 
the time of separation from my pupils. One of 
them was very dear to us. William T. was the 
last who left, — the last of those for whom I 
had worked many years ; and for the last time 
we prayed in our humble chapel, and one by one 



THE " JOSEPHINE." 331 

they gave us their " Dieu votes benisse!'" And 
on the 15th of June, having taken a last walk 
in the beautiful park, we left for Antwerp. 

There I met a friend, whom in these memoirs 
I have never mentioned, though, since 1831, we 
were united by the bonds of intimacy, only not 
strengthened by communion of faith. For Al- 
fred B. was the best son, the most devoted 
brother, and the most excellent friend, I ever 
knew ; but he could not receive the truth as re- 
vealed in God's holy Word. Of English parent- 
age, he joined to rectitude of intentions a delicacy 
of feeling which never was at fault ; and now he 
came travelling far, once more to see us. 

When we went on board the Bremen brig 
" Josephine," lying in the stream before the 
ancient city, he staid with us a few days ; and to 
him we remitted our farewell letters to mother, 
sister, and sweet Eleonore. As I embraced 
him, and saw him depart in the little boat, it 
seemed that in him I took leave of many good 
and noble men. I see yet his serious, honest 
face steadily turned towards the " Josephine " to 
behold the friends he truly loved, until, waving 
his hand for the last time, he was soon out of 
sight. Eighteen years have gone by, — half the 

23 



338 THE " JOSEPHINE." 

time we knew each other ; but still he is the 
same ; and I may say, what few can truly say, 
" Amongst men I have found a friend." 

On the 22d of June, we weighed anchor, and 
began to descend the rapid Scheldt ; but the 
wind was adverse and cold, and only on the 
26th we saw for the last time the vanishing out- 
lines of the coast of France. 

"With my boy in my arms, I watched them 
long, with feelings impossible to describe ; for 
I left many, many warm-hearted friends, and on 
the other side of the broad Atlantic I had as 
yet none. He who leaves his country becomes 
an exile, thrown upon the kindness of those on 
whom he has no claim. Folding the uncon- 
scious babe in my arms, I went down to my 
wife, who was ill and suffering ; and, taking my 
Bible, I read the Psalm so consoling and encou- 
raging for the traveller: "I will lift up mine 
eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my 
help." 



CONCLUSION. 339 



CONCLUSION. 



Here I must leave my narrative, running 
through the space of thirty years. The Old 
World, with its good and evil, was left behind ; 
and, in the meridian of life, I sought rest in the 
Great Republic of the New. How there I 
found friends and work and trouble ; how the 
hand of God guided me to become a minister of 
his Word, and a missionary to the shores of the 
Pacific ; what there I saw, and partly expe- 
rienced ; what calamities, what blessings ; what 
anxieties, what deliverances ; what heart-stirring 
instances of indomitable energy and magnani- 
mous liberality, — truly my pen might easily 
record. Yet I lay it down, not weary, but with 
excusable hesitation, lest I might weary the few 
who have patiently perused these pages. Should 
they, however, against my expectation, find 
favor enough to encourage me, I shall then re- 
cord, to my best remembrance, the twenty years 
of my checkered life in the New World. 



340 CONCLUSION. 

" What a life has been yours ! " thus wrote to 
me the venerable pastor of the Witness some 
two years ago. " But have you not travelled a 
spiral to come where the providence of God 
might have led you in a direct line?" 

The pastor of the Witness said true ; but I 
am willing to lay open the windings of that life, 
that others may profit by it, and, with a single 
eye to God, hold the straighter line. 



THE END. 



Printed by JoiMj. Wilson and §^i*,^Bnston. 













' ■* - ■' ft - 



Arvt v 



- A' 



>'*». «■ 






\x : *&a£ 



f\/\ l**. 'SMAft 






ih$t*& 



aah.*.*^ 






W .»Mw 












' 






tittifi 






~ * ^ ^ * 









^ : ' -»*A, 



* ' - c * 






^'*WK*$ 



H 



y<.<ti 



■Uif! 



